


veni, vidi, vici

by seaweedbraens



Category: Miraculous Ladybug, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon, Multi, because fuckin' hell i couldnt stop, essentially a long-ass mlb pokemon au, i need to work on...holding myself back, when it comes to the word count
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 16:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21461197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaweedbraens/pseuds/seaweedbraens
Summary: With a bunch of masked criminals threatening the peace of her city, Marinette starts out playing the hero and ends up in a situation far worse than anyone could’ve ever imagined.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe
Comments: 20
Kudos: 59





	veni, vidi, vici

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends and welcome to this mess!!
> 
> after years and years of writing only pjo, i finally came up with this miraculous + pokémon au set in the pokémon world, [ in a region based on france.](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Kalos) i've added links to most pokemon i've named in the fic, just for you to get an idea of what they look like, but if you don't know a thing about pokémon at all, i've made a [ guide ](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1a3kv7RexRsv59p7i8_4L6EgURJmZb3fa/view) which should hopefully explain the base of what i'm working with. (i drew a fucking map for that stupid guide. please appreciate me.)
> 
> if you have any other questions, feel free to dm me on [ my tumblr. ](http://seaweedbraens.tumblr.com/)
> 
> have fun with the fic, and, as always, i apologize for the length.

There are two kinds of people in the world.

  1. People who should not go drinking with Alya. Because she always does it, she always just – drags Marinette out of her comfortable, warm, cosy home, when Marinette needs to _rest_, damn it, and she makes Marinette draw eyeliner on for the both of them, because Alya Cesaire can do many things, but drawing on eyeliner is not one of them. And then she hauls Marinette’s whiny ass to Lumiose City and then they take shots, shots, shots –  
  


And. Well. You know what? There really is no other kind of person in the world. Because nobody – however vile a person they may be – should have to go drinking with Alya, who knows the bartender well enough to vault over the bar early on into the night and insist on making Marinette her special blend, which Alya claims is a secret recipe but Marinette knows is an abominable amalgamation of tequila, vodka, and other shit that, well, she’d been too drunk to pay attention to.

So here she is in _Le Petit Papillon_, which is apparently Lumiose’s hottest new club, according to Alya, who had never been before and wanted to check the place out for ‘research’, as she’d called it. Which is bull, because Alya’s long graduated from writing the smaller pieces for the Lumiose Press, but Marinette goes anyway, because she’s a fucking loser and also because Alya had said that the band playing tonight used [Exploud](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Exploud_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) as their speakers, and well, sue her, she’s curious. She’s never seen Pokémon used as speakers before.

She’s not disappointed in that regard. The band – [Skitty](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Skitty_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) Section – is really good. Marinette _loves_ their outfits and finds herself liking their sound, even though their lyrics are kind of unconventional. The music is good, though, and loud, and easy to dance to, which Marinette needs right now. Alya’s already forced four shots of the bar’s signature drink down her throat and Marinette is pleasantly buzzed as she navigates the dance floor, grinning at Alya as they wiggle unattractively to the music.

“I need another shot!” Alya calls out, grabbing Marinette by the wrist to make sure she doesn’t lose her in the crowd – which is pretty impressive, by the way, especially for midnight on a fucking Wednesday. Alya had chalked _Papillon’_s popularity up to the place’s aesthetic – black, silver, and purple all around, with the signature butterfly logo printed all over the ceiling - and while Marinette can appreciate the décor, she’s sure something about the really great liquor has something to do with it, too.

The bar’s signature drink is simply called the Fluturré, which is apt because the drink is served in flutes, not regular shot glasses, and also because it makes Marinette feel like she’s fluttering.

She downs it in one and grins over at Alya, who looks just about as drunk as she feels. She’s wearing her contacts today, and with her hair down and in her black dress she looks far sexier than Marinette in her crop top and shorts. Marinette’s seen many of the awestruck gazes thrown Alya’s way, but the other girl either hasn’t noticed or is choosing to ignore them in favour of Marinette. She’s a gem that way.

Lumiose doesn’t really have a curfew, per se, but most people head home when Prism Tower’s light shut down at around two a.m. It’s one now. Marinette has a shop to open in the morning, and she tells Alya so, but Alya’s doing that pout thing that’s so fucking hard to say no to, so Marinette heaves a sigh and stays. Alya cheers and asks the bartender for another drink to celebrate. The man is young, wearing fingerless gloves and black nail polish. He has dark hair and the brightest green eyes Marinette has ever seen.

“Oh my god, Al, he would be so perfect for Nath,” she says suddenly, pointing at the bartender, who startles and looks at her, wide-eyed.

“Oh my god, Mari.” Alya gazes at the guy, who blinks back, red blooming across his nose.

“We’re embarrassing him,” Marinette coos.

“He’d be the _best_ for Nath!” Alya crows, ignoring her entirely. To the bartender, who has paused in making their drinks entirely, she says, “Hello.”

“Hi,” he replies, bemused. He’s got a [Togepi](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Togepi_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) on his shoulder, something she hadn’t noticed until that moment, and the baby Pokémon blinks at them sleepily. Marinette wiggles her fingers at it. It makes a tiny noise. Marinette squeals, tugging Alya’s sleeve and whispering about how cute it is.

Alya, meanwhile, has been talking nonstop. “Nathanael is a friend of ours, he’s the Gym Leader of Santalune City, he’s like, super pretty, have you seen him?” The bartender nods his affirmation, looking as though he’s been put on mute against his will. Marinette can relate. When Alya gets going, it’s hard to get a word in edgeways.

Alya shoves her phone into the poor dude’s face. It’s a picture of Nathanael feeding his [Stoutland](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Stoutland_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), and it’s a really cute picture. Marinette knows because she took it. She tells the bartender this, and he smiles and tells her he likes it. She glows at the praise.

“Nath had a crush on Marinette when she first moved to Kalos,” Alya babbles. “So he’ll definitely like you, you two look like siblings, almost.”

“A non-native?” He looks at her. “Glad to know I’m not the only one. Where are you from?”

“Hoenn,” Marinette says proudly. Alya makes a _tch_ noise.

“Sinnoh,” says the bartender. “Kalos is so weird, isn’t it.”

“_So_ weird,” Marinette agrees fervently.

“Kalos is the _best_, you bitchy traitors, and as I was _saying_,” Alya interrupts, “Nath will like you because you look like Mari, and who doesn’t like Mari?”

“We do look alike,” Marinette agrees. “But you’re prettier.”

“Stop that!” Alya says at once. She grabs Marinette’s face with both hands. “Stop doing that. You stupid bitch. You’re stunning.” Unable to move, speak, or breathe, Marinette nods.

“You’re very pretty,” the bartender agrees.

Alya turns to him at once, a smile breaking over her face again. “She is! And you’re great, by the way. I’m Alya, this is my girl Mari. What’s your name?”

“Marc,” says the bartender. He’s smiling, amused, as he slides their drinks over to them. “And tell you what, for the best conversation I’ve been a part of all night, I’ll give you these on the house.”

Marinette stares. “You’re an angel.”

“Descended straight from heaven, and we do not deserve you.” Alya chugs her drink and exhales noisily when she’s done. “Wow, okay.” She giggles. “That’s _strong.”_

“I can handle it,” Marinette says confidently, trying to stand as proof and failing miserably. Marc is laughing as he catches her arm to prevent her from faceplanting. Alya is staring at her empty glass mournfully.

“Gimme one more drink and I’ll give you Nath’s number,” she bargains, which is a stupid deal, because Marc hadn’t asked for Nathanael’s number in the first place.

“Alya, Nath would _kill_ us.”

“I know. It’ll be fun.” She’s doing the pouty thing again, this time directed at Marc, who appears to be far weaker than Marinette.

“One more drink and I get both of _your_ numbers so I can tell you when I’m in Santalune next and maybe you could arrange for us to meet in person,” he relents, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh my god, it worked,” Marinette says.

“Of course it did, I’m a fucking queen at setting people up, I have a seventh sense for this kind of stuff,” Alya says dismissively, squinting at her phone like an old lady. She tries to unlock it, but fails, and hands it over to Marinette.

“I gave you the idea, I was the one who said Marc would be good for Nath,” Marinette whines, trying to get her fingers to draw out Alya’s phone pattern, at the same time Marc murmurs, “Actually, it’s a sixth sense.”

Marinette succeeds in unlocking Alya’s phone. Marc enters his contact and sends himself a message, and then hands the phone back, smiling. “I’ll be back with your drink.”

“I love you,” Alya calls.

Marinette is rummaging in her purse for her pokéballs, but through her drunken haze she manages to miss [Altaria’s](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Altaria_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) pokéball a total of five times before she finally gets a hold of it. Marc returns with their drinks and bids them goodbye with a “Stay safe,” which is honestly so fucking precious, and Marinette promises him free macarons when he visits.

She and Alya knock back the shot and gaze at the emptying bar. The music is off and the security guards with their [Sawk](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Sawk_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) and [Throh](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Throh_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) are carefully ushering the drunk guests out the door. Alya looks like she’s calculating the amount of energy it’ll take her to get back on her feet. Marinette tries and manages to stand, even though her legs are wobbling and might give out any second.

Still, though, she offers her arm to Alya, who takes it with a “Thank you, good sir,” and they both stumble out of the club, dazed and giggling. Marinette, who had put her foot down earlier this evening and had refused point-blank to wear heels, is in better shape than Alya, who can’t seem to take a step without trembling dangerously. It’s hilarious to them both, and every step her friend takes sends them off into a renewed set of giggles.

It’s been a while since she’s enjoyed a night like this, Marinette thinks, looking up at the starry sky and inhaling deeply. The air is cold and leaves her alert, but still tremendously light. Skitty Section really was good and the bass player was gorgeous, and she tells Alya so, and Alya advises her to “Get in dem pants ASAP.” Marinette chokes on air.

It’s dark, but the streetlights still shine at Rouge Plaza, where Marinette releases [Altaria](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Altaria_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) from its pokéball. It appears in a shimmering blue light, head tucked under a soft downy wing. Marinette pets its feathers, and Altaria raises its cerulean head with a soft coo, looking around confusedly at their surroundings before fixing Marinette with a stare.

“Let me live,” Marinette says, in response to Altaria’s disapproving glare. Alya raises a fist like she’s saying _You tell em, girl. _

Altaria flaps its wings experimentally, raising a small cloud of dust that goes straight up Marinette’s nose. She begins to sneeze uncontrollably, almost falling over, and Alya starts to laugh, and she laughs so hard she begins to hiccup. Marinette wheezes, leaning against Altaria for support. Its wings feel like actual clouds of silk. She might fall asleep right there.

“You’ll be fine, right? Do you want me to drop you home?” Marinette asks wearily, clambering on Altaria, who shifts to accommodate her, used to her weight. Alya shakes her head without a word. Marinette knows it’s because she’s holding her breath in an effort to get rid of the hiccups. It doesn’t work. She hiccups loudly again and says, “I live, like, two streets away.”

“See you tomorrow, probably,” Marinette says, still giggly.

“I’m going to have the worst fucking hangover, I can already tell.” Alya pinches the bridge of her nose. “Bye, girl.”

“Bye,” Marinette whispers, giving her friend a brief hug before Alya turns away, walking in the direction of the nearest alleyway that’ll take her home. Marinette watches her until she can’t see her anymore, then pets Altaria lightly on the head as a gesture to take off.

Altaria’s just lifted them both into the sky when Marinette hears the scream.

It’s loud, _so_ loud in the stillness of the city, and the sound of it sends chills up Marinette’s spine. Not only because of how eerie it is, but also because it’s familiar.

_Alya._

“Altaria, quick!” Marinette doesn’t need to finish the sentence; the Dragon has let out a cry of its own and is diving for the alley Alya had gone through. Marinette shakes her head rapidly, wind filling her ears, trying to snap herself out of her own damn drunkenness, why had she let Alya go alone, why, _why _–

“There!” She spots Alya, fallen to the ground as though pushed: there’s a person in front of her, holding up a pokéball in triumph. Alya’s scrambling to get up even as Marinette and Altaria move in to land.

“Mari!” Alya sobs, pointing at the figure. “Mari, they- _they took [Fennekin!”](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Fennekin_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\))_

Aghast, Marinette turns to face the person, who is clad all in deep purple, chuckling, Fennekin’s pokéball clutched in his hand. Her mind is still rebooting, but her heart is beating hard, and she remembers that Fennekin had been Alya’s first ever Pokémon, and there is no way in hell she’s allowing this scumbag to get away. Marinette can tell by his body structure that it’s a man, and he holds a staff with some kind of silver logo on it, one that she can’t make out because of how far away he’s standing. He looks almost bored at her interruption, but he lets out his own Pokémon, a [Venomoth](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Venomoth_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) that hums with power, gazing at them with wide eyes.

“Don’t even fucking move,” Marinette growls, helping Alya up and throwing her arms wide open, daring the man to attack. Behind them, Altaria lets out another shriek: a cry so bone-chilling it makes her shiver, and spreads its wings. Marinette stays on guard. She knows she could take out the man if she had to, even if it’s been a while since she’s battled.

“Have it your way. I won’t move, then,” the man says, almost smug. He knocks his staff on the ground, twice, in quick succession.

Marinette’s about to command Altaria to attack, she can feel Altaria itching to Hurricane this dude all the way to Snowbelle City, but then the Venomoth lets out a low buzz and its eyes glow. Faster than Marinette can blink, the man and his Pokémon are gone, vanished in a flash of light. Marinette stands there uselessly, dread filling her when she hears Alya’s broken sobs behind her.

Altaria claws the ground in frustration. Marinette’s hand curls into a first. He’d Teleported away, the coward. She knows – she _knows_ she couldn’t have stopped that, but if only she’d been faster to attack, if only she had insisted harder on dropping Alya home –

“Fennekin,” Alya whispers.

“What the fuck,” Marinette says, wondering how a normal night out at a club had somehow turned into _this_. “What – the – actual – fuck.”

* * *

They’ve messed with the wrong reporter, Alya thinks furiously as she heads into Lumiose the next day.

Mari, bless her, had stayed up with her all night: they’d first gone over to the police station and filed a complaint, then searched from the skies for any sight of the man, even though they’d both known the search would be futile. Alya isn’t much of a Trainer, but she’s done her education and she knows her stuff as a reporter – nobody can be tracked once they’ve Teleported away. Alya had been a mess through it all, which she’s kind of ashamed of now, but – and her throat closes up even now just thinking about it – _Fennekin._

Fennekin had been her very first Pokémon that she’d gotten from Professor Fu, and although she’d figured out pretty quickly that she wasn’t a battler, choosing to stay in Lumiose and study journalism, she’d always had the little fox with her, accompanying her on field work, curling up in her lap as Alya went through draft after draft of an article, heating up her tea with its hot fire breath every time Alya had been too lazy to get up and stick the cup in the microwave. Knowing that her Pokémon is out there, all alone, stolen by some- some _sick creature_ who’s probably not even feeding it right…it makes Alya burn with fury.

Marinette’s packed her some lunch – a sandwich and a chocolate-filled croissant, Alya’s favourite. She’d been just as cut up as Alya about the theft – she’d adored Fennekin, and vice-versa, from day one – and even though Alya had told her, multiple times, that it wasn’t her fault the creepy thief man had gotten away, she knows Marinette still blames herself. She’d been a good battler in Hoenn, Alya remembers, even though Marinette downplays her skills constantly. Good enough to get all eight region Badges, and she might’ve even challenged the Hoenn League if her parents hadn’t moved to Kalos. Maybe that’s a part of the reason why she’s so angry – she probably knows she could’ve stopped the dude easily if she’d had the chance. If the guy hadn’t run away.

She’d let Alya crash at her place, a tiny flat just above her bakery in Santalune City, even though neither of them really slept. Alya’d been glad for the company and the change in location, at least. She’d practically gown up in Lumiose, and she knew the city far better than her own home at Couriway Town, but yesterday had been the first time she’d really felt unsafe.

Marinette had sent her off with a hug and the promise that they would find Fennekin no matter what. Her words were spoken earnestly and with a touch of Marinette’s usual optimism, but even so, Alya had been surprised at the fire in her eyes. Hot-blooded Trainer blood, she thinks, almost enviously. Maybe if Alya had some of that in her, she’d still have Fennekin.

She stops at the main branch of _Boulangerie Patisserie_ – Marinette runs a smaller branch just outside of Santalune City - where Marinette’s parents work. It’s on her way, after all, and she really needs a hot cup of cocoa right now.

By the looks of things, it’s just opened, and Marinette must have texted Tom and Sabine the news, because they both give her a big hug as soon as she walks in, but it only succeeds in making Alya feel worse. Sabine usually lets Alya release Fennekin in the kitchens, where it ends up curling up near the ovens – it has always liked the warmth. Alya crumples at the nearest table while Tom makes her cocoa and Sabine holds her hand wordlessly. She’s grateful. They’ve always been good to her.

There’s not much talk – Alya tells them she’s going back to the police station before she checks in at work, and Tom offers her a ride that she politely declines. She sips her cocoa, and Sabine is forced to leave her side when more customers begin to come in – the bakery has always been popular. When Alya stands up to pay, Sabine shoots her a look like _Don’t even try it. _Alya chuckles.

Tom hands her a parcel as she moves to leave. “It’s got some cake for you, and some poffins,” he says firmly. “You give them to Fennekin when you find it again, okay?”

There’s something in his gaze that makes her a little hopeful. “Sure, Tom. Thank you.”

Lumiose Police Station is fairly close by, a low-rise, somber grey building that Alya has never really explored fully. She knows some of the officers, though, thanks to her status as a reporter, so it’s no trouble getting in, at least. She looks around until she spots Kim at his desk, poring over some paperwork.

“Kim!” she calls out gratefully; he hadn’t been there the night before when she and Marinette had lodged their complaint. It’s good to see him now, looking grim and businesslike. Someone on her side.

“Al,” he says, giving her a brief hug. “Myléne filled me in. Shit, I’m so sorry.” He looks at her closely. “Are you…y’know, doing okay? It’s a stupid question, but…”

“I’m alright,” she says, with as much confidence as she can muster.

He lifts a brow.

“Well, I’m managing, I guess,” she admits. “It sucks that Fennekin’s gone. I’m barely holding myself together. Just…please tell me you have something.”

Kim looks dejected. “Not much at all, I’m afraid. We’ve got teams set up everywhere, and we’ve contacted the local forces in every city in Kalos in case he turns up, but, like you said, if he Teleported…”

He’s as good as vanished into this air, then. Alya bites her tongue to stop herself from crying. “Okay. Thanks, Kim.”

“I’ll do everything I can, Al. I mean it.”

“Keep me updated,” she says. “Please?”

“Of course.” For a minute, it seems like he’s battling with something. “Come with me.”

She follows him to a small office, which is clearly used for brainstorming sessions. Kim looks around to see if anyone else is near, and then turns to face her, looking grim.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Thing is, Al…” He takes a shaky breath. “Someone taking your Pokémon…this isn’t the first time this has happened in Lumiose recently.” He lets that sink in. “Alya, yours is the fifth case in the past month and a half.”

Alya suddenly feels nauseous. “What the fuck,” she croaks.

He hangs his head. “It’s top secret right now because the Chief and the Mayor think it would freak people out. They want to close this quietly, but it’s not happening. It’s just getting worse.”

‘What the fuck.” Alya actually sits down, feeling weak, sliding down the wall to the floor. “Kim…this is _wrong._ This is huge, and if some psychopath is out there stealing people’s Pokémon –”

“Psychopaths,” Kim says.

“Excuse me?”

“Psycho_paths_. Plural. Besides the dude you and Marinette described yesterday, there are two others: a woman all in blue and another in brown. They were wearing masks, so we can’t identify them.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “We’ve been searching for them all over the region. There’s no sign of them.”  
  


“So…there’s no hope for Fennekin, then.” Alya wants to hit something. “Damn it, Kim! This is nuts! The people of Lumiose – of Kalos – need to know, so they can be safe! So they can keep their Pokémon safe! There are probably hundreds of Trainers in Lumiose right now who are at risk!”

He raises his hands. “I’m on your side, Al. None of us here are really happy with it, but the Chief’s acting per the Mayor’s orders, and your boss at the Press has been ordered to shut up, too. If we blab, we lose out place on the force, and at least this way we can actually feel like we’re doing something.”

“What the hell,” she says. It feels like the room is spinning. “Kim. We’ve got to do something. Anything.”

“And we are,” Kim promises. “We’re all working overtime on this case, and I’m not even supposed to tell you this shit, I could get fired for it. But…I’ll keep you updated. And whatever you decide to do, please stay safe.”

“I will,” she says. “Mail me the other case files?”

“Alya, that’s literally classified.”

“Ugh, fine, just tell me which Pokémon were stolen, and when.” Alya pulls out a notepad. “Anything you can tell me.”

He scrutinizes her, but Alya holds his gaze until his shoulders slump. She’d known Kim a long time, and while he’s never been the brightest [Lanturn](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Lanturn_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) in the sea, he’s always been dependable and loyal to a fault. When Alya had gone out of her way to write about a lesser-known case he’d been working on, he’d immediately gone out of his way to thank her, and they’d been good friends since. He’s a good guy, knows right from wrong. And she knows she can count on him.

“Fine,” he says. “But quick.”

So Kim talks, while Alya takes notes diligently, her teeth gritted, a slow fire building in her belly. They really have messed with the wrong reporter.

* * *

Adrien likes to roam the city sometimes.

He’s been all over the world, of course, for photoshoots and the like, but Lumiose is home, and he loves walking through the city. He could probably spend a whole day in_ just_ South Boulevard, stopping at each café and boutique, seeing the sights and just, well, being himself.

In disguise, of course.

Nino laughs loudly when Adrien walks out of his bathroom wearing a bright blue scarf, sunglasses, and a fake moustache, hair tucked into a bucket hat.

“Bro, you couldn’t stand out harder if you tried,” he chortles. Plagg, the fucking traitor cat, is curled up in Nino’s lap, snoozing like there’s no tomorrow. Adrien feels betrayed – _he_ was the one to catch the [Alolan Meowth](https://www.pokemon-sunmoon.com/en-us/pokemon/alolan-meowth/) in the first place, so why does it seem like it prefers all his friends over him?

Adrien throws away the scarf. He’s never liked it anyway. “Better?”

“I think it’s the moustache that’s causing the problem.”

Adrien touches it. “I like it.”

“Bro,” Nino says in disbelief, “That thing is _black_.”

“That’s racist.”

“Adrien, you dick, you’re blonde!”

“Well, fuck.” Adrien really _had_ forgotten that minor detail. He tries to shove more of his hair into the hat. “Should I just dye my hair?”

“Your dad will have your head mounted on a mantelpiece and displayed in a museum,” Nino says nonchalantly. “He’d even make people pay fifty bucks to see your pretty little head.”

Adrien would take offence if he wasn’t so sure Nino had a point, so he sighs and peels off the moustache. Nino throws the scarf back and he winds it around his neck so that it covers his chin.

“Much better,” Nino says, lifting Plagg with a single hand and placing the Alolan Meowth carefully on Adrien’s bed so as to not wake it. He lifts his wallet. “Now come on, let’s go to _Boulangerie._ Red velvet cake on me.”

Adrien insists they walk, even though it’s quite a distance from his apartment to the café. It had taken him nearly half a year to convince his father that he needed a place of his own in the city – he’d never really liked the family estate in Camphrier Town, and the manor had felt cold and empty since his mother’s passing. His father had finally relented, on the condition that Adrien stay in the Bourgeois-owned apartment building, with his bodyguard staying in a flat a few floors below. It hadn’t been total freedom for him – ever - but he’d take it.

He’d chosen to live on the North Boulevard, as far away from his father’s boutique as possible, just so he could get to walk through the city, and he’ll be damned if Nino makes him get into an overpriced Lumi Cab just so the dude could see the cute glasses girl again.

Nino complains about it the entire way: _Adrien, we’re late, we’re so late, what if she’s already left, what if – _

Adrien tunes him out, taking in the city, making a note of the new stores and what they sold; he stops for an ice cream and shoves a cone in Nino’s hands before the other boy can find fault with _that_, too. There are a lot of people out today, some shopping, some just cycling around, most with their Pokémon out. It’s easy to spot the newcomers, because they have this blank, awed look on their face as they look around: some ask Adrien for directions and he points them in the right way.

Nino’s given up on badgering him and is licking his ice cream with an annoyed look on his face.

“Will that be all, your Highness?” he drawls, as Adrien stops to pet a [Lillipup](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Lillipup_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)). “Would you like to take a stroll down Versant Road? Walk all the way back home to Camphrier?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Adrien says good-naturedly, miming running towards the gateway to Route 5. Nino glares at him.

“Don’t be a sourpuss,” Adrien smiles. “We’re close, anyway. And the red velvet cake’s on you, remember?”

“I ought to shove it right up your asshole,” Nino deadpans, and Adrien laughs.

He’s never been to _Boulangerie Patisserie _before, but it appears nice enough from the outside – quaint and cute, like most other cafés in Kalos. It smells fucking divine, though, and Adrien, inhaling deeply, looks at Nino with wide eyes. His friend can’t even pretend to be annoyed anymore, instead opting to look smug. “Told ya.”

It’s fairly crowded inside, but they manage to get a table after a few minutes of waiting. A lot of the customers seem to be Trainers, getting poképuffs and poffins for their Pokémon. The whole place gives off this air of homeliness, which is a real great feeling for Adrien.

Nino seems familiar with the owners, whom he introduces as Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng. Sabine is a tiny lady with silky black hair and smiley eyes, and Tom is gigantic in comparison, towering above both Adrien and Nino, but he offers Adrien a warm grin and a welcome. Adrien likes these people already, unable to stop himself smiling at the way they talk to Nino like he’s an old friend.

Nino orders two slices of red velvet cake, as promised, and two lemonades. “For your diet,” he tells Adrien, in a voice that oozes fake concern.

“Diet?” Sabine asks, looking Adrien up and down critically.

Nino lowers his voice. “He’s kind of a model. The sunglasses and scarf hide his gorgeous model looks.”

“Nino!”

“Don’t worry, dear, your secret is safe with me,” she laughs, eyes crinkling pleasantly, and Adrien’s panic dies down a little.

“Thanks,” he says.

“But you should be eating more,” she scolds, and Adrien snaps to attention at once. Nino sniggers behind his hand shamelessly. “You’re so skinny for someone so young! You’ve got to eat while you can, before you get old and lethargic like me, eh?”

“You’re probably more energetic than I am, ma’am,” he says sombrely, and Sabine throws her head back and laughs as she hands them their order. “I added some cookies my daughter made, too,” she says with a wink. “She stopped by this morning, so they’re still fairly fresh.”

“We’ll pay,” says Nino immediately.

“Stop it, dear, they’re on the house.” Sabine smiles at them. “Consider it a bribe to make you come again.”

“Of course,” Adrien says eagerly.

“I’m flattered.” She points them to their table. “Enjoy your food!”

Adrien sits down, a little overwhelmed by the easy conversation and the smell of the cookies. Nino has seated himself across him, looking a little smug. “I told you this place is the best.”

“_You_ shut up, you’re just coming here for the cute girl,” Adrien says. He takes a bite of the cake and _melts._

“Mmmmmh,” he tells Nino, who seems to understand. He nods, like, _I know, bro. I know._

“_Dude_,” Adrien says. He takes another bite. _“Dude.”_

“I know.”

“She’s got to be some girl if you’re not coming here only for this cake.” Adrien points at his almost-empty plate with his fork. “I’d come here for this cake. I’d come here just for a _crumb._ Fuck my diet. Fuck my stylist. Fuck my personal trainer.”

Nino flushes. “Shut it. I bet we missed her, anyway. She’s usually here earlier than this.”

“You stalker,” Adrien teases.

“Shut it,” Nino says again. He stands. “I’m going to get a sandwich or something, I’m still hungry. You want anything?”

“Two of whatever you want.”

“Sure.”

Adrien leans back and takes a bite of the cookie, which he’d forgotten about, and nearly bursts into tears again. “This is a really good cookie!” he calls, mouth full, to Nino. Nino claps sarcastically. Sabine hears and laughs.

He’s so engrossed in his cookie that he doesn’t notice someone push past him, murmur an apology, and take a seat at the table diagonally to his right. He’s so engrossed in his cookie that he loses all sense of where he is, who he is, _what is life_, until Nino sets two sandwiches down on the table with panic written all over his face.

“Dude,” he says, gesturing as subtly as he can, “_that’s her!”_

“What?” Adrien looks at her immediately. She’s facing him, looking down into a notepad, turning pages back and forth. She wears glasses, a simple orange t-shirt, and has pretty auburn hair.

“Don’t creep her out,” Nino begs.

“I’m not being creepy, you creep.” Adrien looks at her. “She’s cute.”

Nino beams. “I know, right?”

“Oh shit, she saw me looking,” Adrien mutters, grabbing his sandwich at once.

Nino flails, nearly knocking over both their lemonades. “Act casual!”

“Dude, _I’m _acting normal, you’re the one attracting attention!”

“Oh my god, I’m going to die of shame –”

Adrien snorts into his sandwich, but luckily, the girl hasn’t looked up again. Adrien uses this opportunity to get a better look at her. She’s exactly Nino’s type, but she looks sad and tired, and he can’t help wondering why.

Nino, who obviously can’t turn around to stare, is busying himself by listening to his new tracks on his headphones. Adrien pulls out his phone and answers a few e-mails. He doesn’t look up until a shadow passes him and he looks up to see Nino’s girl (well, not really) standing up to hug someone, a petite girl with dark hair like Sabine’s.

“Alya, you okay?” the other girl asks worriedly as soon as they sit down.

“I’m _pissed,”_ Alya says, even though she sounds miserable while she says it. The other girl hums and takes a sip of her drink.

“Okay, so get this.” Alya leans forward and begins to talk in a hushed voice, and the other girl leans forward as well. Not wanting to pry, Adrien looks back at his phone, but he can’t help listening to bits of the conversation. Alya mentions a Kim and the police a lot, and then she says, a little more distinctly than before, “The Lumiose police are covering up these crimes as petty thievery –” and Adrien’s ears are suddenly straining to catch more information.

There’s more whispers, then the other girl says, “Al…”

“You can't stop me," Alya says at once, looking determined and stubborn. "This is a great story, my guy in the police department said it's a story that's waiting to break, but the chief is close to the mayor, who, for some reason, is really intent on covering it up... Mari, this is something the public should _know_ about, especially since it's happened more than once."

The other girl – Mari – sighs. “I just want you to be safe. You’ve already lost Fennekin.”

Alya deflates at this, and her expression at once turns into something so mournful that Adrien feels rude and slimy, like he’s intruding on something private. He covers an ear with his hand and looks at another e-mail.

The girls leave after ten minutes of laughing quietly to themselves; Alya, who looks slightly more cheerful, waves a little tiredly at Tom and Sabine, and Mari leans over the counter to kiss Sabine on the cheek in farewell. “Bye, Maman, Papa!” she calls, and, linking her arm through Alya’s, she vanishes out the door.

Adrien stares after them, a little stunned, both at what he’d heard and the fact that he’d been sitting right behind the maker of the best cookies he’s ever eaten in his life. Nino’s staring, too, longing plastered all over his face.

Adrien can’t help snorting. “Dork.”

“She’s so pretty,” Nino sighs.

“Hey, did she ever come here with a Pokémon before?” Adrien asks casually.

“Yeah,” Nino says at once, the fucking creep. “A Fennekin. It was cute, I fed it half a poképuff once. Why?”

“Just curious, she seems like the type to have a [Fletchinder](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Fletchinder_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), or something like that,” he invents wildly. Nino shoots him a look, but thankfully he decides to drop it.

“Well, now I just gotta figure out how to talk to her,” Nino moans. Adrien claps him on the back, laughing, but his mind is a million miles away, trying to figure out what the two girls had been talking about. It hadn’t sounded like anything good.

* * *

It starts, as most things do in Marinette’s life, with Alya and a bad idea.

By all accounts, Marinette leads a simple life. And she _likes_ it. She likes working in the family bakery, meeting Trainers just starting on their journey, and designing outfits for hopeful Coordinators in her off time. She likes her tiny apartment, right above the bakery, where it smells like freshly baked bread and is always nice and quiet (and pink), and she likes meeting up with Alya in Lumiose, where they catch up over a cup of coffee at some cute little café, and discuss life and (their lack of) love and the clothes on the mannequins at the windows of the nearby stores.

Yes, Marinette has a peaceful routine, save for the few nights when Alya drags her out to go dancing, so there should be no reason for her to be skulking on some random rooftop, peering into nearby alleyways, wearing a dark hoodie and pants, a poorly-made mask covering her nose and cheekbones. 

And yet here she is.

It’s all Alya’s fault, Marinette grouses, shivering slightly, knowing fully well that this is nobody’s fault but her own. 

“What the hell were you thinking,” she whispers to herself. “You can’t be some kind of…superhero.”

Prism Tower at the centre of the city is lit brightly and beautifully, casting diamonds of light as far as the eye can see. It’s just past midnight, and the city seems quiet and calm. 

“But that’s just it,” Alya had said earlier that day at her parents’ bakery, her eyes glinting behind her glasses. “The Lumiose police are covering up these crimes as petty thievery, nothing more, but all the victims so far have mentioned that the crimes have taken place at night, and all the thieves took only their pokéballs, nothing more.”

Marinette leaned forward, curious. “No wallets? Identification, money?”

“All intact.” Alya paused to take a sip of her drink. “The thieves went right for the pokéballs. They didn’t even care what Pokémon they were taking, they just went for it. One man, a shop owner I think, he reported his [Chingling](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Chingling_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) stolen, like, what the fuck? It’s a baby Pokémon, it’s not like it’s going to be any good in battle...”

"It's a cute Pokémon," Marinette admitted, staring at the bubbles in her drink. 

"Worth stealing, though?"

"What were the other Pokémon stolen?" 

Alya checked her notes. "A [Ponyta](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Ponyta_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\))...a [Teddiursa](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Teddiursa_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\))...a [Chespin](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Chespin_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), oh man, the poor Trainer must've just gotten it... all forms and types of 'em, can't really sense any sort of pattern. Weird, isn't it?"

"Definitely," Marinette said. She looked up, recognizing the lilt in Alya's tone. "Al..."

"You can't stop me," Alya said at once. "This is a great story, my guy in the police department said it's a story that's waiting to break, but the chief is close to the mayor, who, for some reason, is really intent on covering it up... Mari, this is something the public should _know_ about, especially since it's happened more than once."

Marinette had sighed. "I just want you to be safe. You’ve already lost Fennekin.”

She’d regretted her words at once, because Alya’s shoulders drooped immediately and her eyes lost their sparkle. Marinette wants to hit herself.

“Al.” She reached across the table and grasped her hand tightly. “I know how badly you want to find Fennekin. I do, too. That doesn't mean you should go poking around in alleyways at night to catch these criminals. These guys seem like professional thieves. What if something else happens? What if they take more of your Pokémon?”

When Alya met Marinette's eyes again, she knew she'd gotten through to her.

"Promise me you won't go alone, at least," Marinette beseeched. "Take Kim or Alix. Take me, if you want. But don't go alone."

"FIne," Alya had said. She hadn't sounded really happy about it, but she'd squeezed Marinette's arm and smiled. "I promise I'll take you."

Marinette had laughed. "I'm a burnt-out battler at best."

"Who wouldn't want one of Hoenn's finest?" Alya had laughed. "Girl, winning eight badges isn't easy. Maybe you could've even been Champion if you had continued."

"But I didn't," Marinette had said.

_But I didn't,_ Marinette thinks now, lightly touching the pokéballs at her belt. She had been a good battler, at one point. All the Gym Leaders in Hoenn had told her so, and they'd urged her to continue training, challenge the Elite Four. But when her parents had expressed their desire to move to Kalos, Marinette had chosen to go with them and help set up their new bakery in Lumiose, and, when that first branch had taken off, she'd stayed back to run the second, a smaller shop close to Santalune City.

Like she's always said, she loves her life the way it is. But does she miss the heat of battle, her Pokémon throwing out attacks at the sound of her voice, her eyes meeting another Trainers’ across the battlefield, the electric feeling of winning a match? Of course she does. And is she positively burning with fury at how she’d gone down without even a fight the day before? _Hell_ yes.

Maybe there's more regret there than she'd realized.

She inhales, looks up at Prism Tower, with its pretty, flashy lights. She looks briefly at her watch. The lights turn off in twenty minutes.

Silently, Marinette leaps from one roof to another, deciding that keeping herself warm would be her best bet. Once in a while, she peers down into what she assumes are suspicious-looking alleyways, but it's all quiet.

The lights of Prism Tower blink off, and Marinette looks up, startled. Already the city looks more grim.

It's about four hours to sunrise, and Marinette has to open up her shop. She can already feel her limbs begin to ache from fatigue and lack of sleep - she's not the Trainer she once was. 

She does a quick recon of the areas she's covered, and then decides to go home. Her pokéballs feel heavy on her belt, and she lets out a sigh, unsure about whether to be disappointed or not. 

She lets out Altaria from its pokéball. The Pokémon looks surprised to find Marinette in a weird location again, looking around before staring at her, like _This has got to stop._

“It’s a long story, okay,” Marinette defends weakly. “Fly me home.”

Altaria stretches, puffing out its chest and spreading its enormous wings. Marinette remembers when she’d caught the tiny [Swablu](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Swablu_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), a Pokémon so small she’d let it ride on her shoulders without complaint. Now, though, Altaria boasts massive feathers and wings twice as long as it is tall. Marinette pets its head absently, lifting a leg to mount. 

Several things happen at once. Altaria’s gaze fixes on something behind her, and it lets out a shriek- a sharp, shrill sound that will definitely wake up most of the sleeping citizens in the building below. Marinette whirls around, alerted by her Pokémon’s warning cry and something shifting in the wind, her hand already grabbing another pokéball. 

The figure in front of her doesn’t look very impressive - in fact, they rather look like her, dressed in dark clothes and a mask. Only, their shirt is a weird brownish brick color, and on the corner is emblazoned a very basic-looking silver butterfly that somehow looks familiar. Her heart races, and she wonders if this was the same symbol she’d seen on the man’s staff from the night before.

Nothing about them screams danger - at least, not in the way Marinette had been expecting, but there is something about their body posture that has her on guard. Marinette has been battling since the age of ten. She knows a fighting stance when she sees one.

“What do you want?” she asks as loud as she can, her fingers tightening around the pokéball. Behind her, Altaria presses in, making a small clicking noise in the back of its throat that Marinette recognizes as the Pokémon’s way of getting ready to battle. It’s a comforting presence to feel.

“Why, I just wanted to say hello,” the person leers. The voice is definitely female, definitely filled with amusement. “Seemed like you hadn’t found what you were looking for, jumping from rooftop to rooftop all night - oh yes, we saw,” she grins in response to Marinette’s barely-concealed gasp of surprise. “You were doing a good job, too. Very thorough.” Her teeth glint in the darkness, and Marinette is reminded, quite clearly, of a [Gengar](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Gengar_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), or some other creepy ghost Pokémon. “It was quite hard to follow you.” 

Marinette grits her teeth, refusing to rise to the bait. “That still doesn’t explain what you want.”

“The question here is what _you_ want, girl,” the lady shoots back, unperturbed. “Checking all the alleyways, hiding in the dark...you’ve got to do better than that if you want to catch what you’re looking for.”

“Maybe I’ve caught her already,” she snaps, and Altaria rumbles in response.

She laughs, a high-pitched, grating sound. “You’re practically a child. Even if you _do_ have quite the Pokémon there.” Her eyes rove over Altaria, standing tall behind her, and Marinette is seized with an immediate panic. She throws an arm out, and Altaria mimics her motion with both wings. Marinette doesn’t even need to turn around to imagine the intimidating figure the Dragon must make. “Don’t even try.”

She laughs again. “I’m not going to. Not today. But a word to the wise, girlie. Stop trying to stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong. You’ll only get hurt, and so will your Pokémon. I can’t guarantee that you’ll come out unscathed next time.”

“Try me,” Marinette challenges at once, blood thundering through her veins. “Fight me, right here, right now, and we’ll see who ends up getting hurt.”

“Me? Here? When all I’ve done is greet you and made some small talk?” She says, hand over heart as though wounded. “I’ve made no move of aggression. Attacking me right now would be...not the best idea for you.”

She grits her teeth, hating that she’s right. She doesn’t want to reveal how much she knows, or accuse this stranger of stealing Alya’s Fennekin, especially if there are others – maybe even the thief himself – watching her. If this one followed her, there are likely more, and they can probably get her on camera if she makes the first move –_ she’ll_ look like the villain then, and she can’t afford that.

“Back,” she tells Altaria reluctantly, and at her command, it folds its wings and balances on its long talons. Marinette pets its head and it lets out a small coo.

“Smart of you,” says the woman. “Now shoo, and never try to one up us ever again.”

“Who is _us?”_ Marinette demands, but the other has already melted into the shadows.

* * *

Nino’s a little bit in love.

Which is stupid. And he knows it, okay? He’s trying _very _hard not to be a creep: it’s not like he follows her all over the city, for gods’ sake. He’d just seen her in the bakery whenever he happened to go for lunch, and she was really cute, okay? He’s never tried to listen in on her conversations (something Adrien is guilty of) and he’s never tried to get up all in her space and make her uncomfortable.

In fact, he’s never even talked to her.

Nino sighs, taking off his headphones in favour of rubbing his eyes. He’s back at _Boulangerie_ for his morning coffee, and also because somehow, the smell of baking bread makes him feel like he can do anything.

It’s cheesy, he admits. Pun very much intended.

He’s one of the first ones in the bakery, and Tom greets him warmly, asking him how he’s doing, how’s his little brother, when’s his next gig? Nino’s not sure when he became a regular, but he’s not complaining one bit. Especially not when Tom slips him an extra macaron with a smile.

Nino settles down with his laptop; he’s got about fifteen unfinished tracks and a gig at _Papillon_ lined up for next week, so he’s got to get moving.

It’s easy to get in the zone. Nino loves music, and he loves making his own. He loves mixing tracks, finding the right beat beat, and he more than anything he loves it when people enjoy his music. Not to toot on his own horn or anything, but he’s been told he’s, ahem, pretty fuckin’ good.

About half an hour passes with Nino just working. He orders another coffee, and then a croissant. His phone beeps with a message from Adrien. Nino barely glances at it.

Someone taps on his shoulder.

“Uh huh?” Nino says dazedly, expecting it to be Tom or Sabine or one of the other staff, but it’s –

Holy mother of [Mewtwo](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Mewtwo_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)).

“Sorry,” says the pretty girl he’s been crushing on for the past month, “is this seat free? All the other tables are taken.”

Nino wastes a second looking around: she’s right, but there are other people sitting alone, too. He wonders why she chose _him_ out of everyone to share a table with, but then decides it’s a miracle and figures he shouldn’t question it.

“Sure,” he says, jumping up.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, sit down, keep working,” the girl says, smiling a little. “I promise I won’t disturb you.” She holds a finger to her lips, eyes sparkling behind her glasses. Oh my god, she’s so cute, Nino’s going to combust.

“Disturb,” he blurts out, like he’s never said the word before, like he’s some kind of caveman. He pinches himself under the table. “Uh, I mean, disturb away. I’m almost done with my work, anyway.”

She smiles, and it’s really pretty. Her hair is a nice shade of red in the sunlight. He’s kind of enchanted.

“I’m Alya,” she says.

“Nino.” They shake hands.

“I’ve seen you around here a lot,” she starts casually. “Tom and Sabine lured you in too, huh?”

Nino’s brain is blaring with alarms of CAUTION: PROCEED CAREFULLY and OH MY GOD SHE NOTICED ME. He coughs awkwardly into his hands. “Yeah, my first bite of croissant and I was hooked.” She laughs, and his entire body lifts. “What about you?”

“Well, I used to come here for my midday coffee crisis, and then I really hit it off with their daughter.” Her expression turns fond. “She runs a smaller branch near Santalune; and _ohhhh_ man, her cookies are to die for.” She does the chef’s kiss at the ceiling. Nino finds himself laughing.

“Near Santalune, huh? I’ve got a friend there, I should go check it out,” he hums, remembering the cookies he and Adrien had had the day before. Adrien hadn’t shut up about the cookies from heaven the entire way back home.

“You really should, she’s amazing.”

Alya’s order arrives: a steaming, cinnamon-smelling drink. She takes a sip and sighs, and it’s only now that Nino notices that when she’s not smiling, she looks incredibly sad. She looks like she needs a hug. Nino would totally volunteer. As a friend. Kind of.

“What kind of work do you do?” she says after a minute, drumming her hands on the table. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, no.” he clears his throat. “Not at all. Uh, I’m a DJ.”

He waits for the fake-polite _Oh, that’s nice_. He’s used to it. A lot of people don’t really understand – or care – about his job. Adrien does. Adrien thinks Nino’s the coolest - which he is, of course. But a lot of people think it’s stupid. Contrary to popular belief, being a DJ isn’t just standing on a platform and playing fun music for a crowd. It’s a lot of time and work and research, and, well. Nino would just like to be taken seriously as an artist in his own right.

But Alya’s eyes widen and she looks genuinely excited when she says, “That’s amazing! Where have you played? Have I heard any of your stuff?”

Nino’s mouth drops open, all thoughts of ‘as a friend’ fleeing his mind, because he might have just found the woman he’s going to marry.

Alya’s still talking about how cool DJ-ing is. “And oh man, I never could have even imagined songs like that would go together, the whole venue was on fire!” She narrows her eyes at him. “What did you say your name was, again?”

“Nino. Nino Lahiffe?”

“Oh my god. Hooooly Arceus.” Alya covers her mouth with her hands. “You’re DJ Bubbler.”

“You’ve heard of me?” Nino is _definitely_ blushing.

“Dude, what the heck? I’ve seen you play. In, uh, I think it was at _The Dark Owl_? About a month or so ago. You were incredible. So was your [Wartortle](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Wartortle_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)).” She laughs. “I got a full blast of Bubblebeam to the face, but it was _so_ worth it.”

“Shit, sorry,” he says, but she’s already waving it off.

“You were insane, I’ve never heard music like that in my life,” she gushes. “Oh my god, Mari is going to kill me when she finds out I met DJ Bubbler, ha!”

This entire experience feels so surreal Nino has to blink to snap himself out of it, because no, _he’s_ the one freaking out (internally) about sitting with _her_. “I’m really not that good,” he murmurs.

“You’re incredible. Stop putting yourself down.” Alya rolls her eyes. “You remind me of my friend, being way too humble about things you’re _allowed_ to brag about.”

“I…have no idea what to say to that,” he admits, and she laughs.

“Just take the compliment, Mr. DJ,” she says, and is that flirting? Is it? Dare he get his hopes up?

“I need to interview you sometime,” she says. “I’m a reporter for the Lumiose Press.”

Nino’s deflates, just a little bit. Well. That explains why she’d been so warm to him. She’d wanted the interview. Fuck. _Fuck._

“I’m really bad at interviews,” he says anyway.

“You’ll be fine,” Alya reassures him. “Interviews are just conversations. And it’s not like I’m looking to expose you or something.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Or am I?”

“Then leave my table this instant, I’ve given too much away already,” Nino says. They both laugh.

She claps her hands together. “Oh! Can I see your Wartortle?”

“S-sure.” He unclips the pokéball from his belt and releases Wartortle, who blinks at him, confused.

“So cute,” Alya coos, bending down to greet the Pokémon. Nino can’t help but feel a little jealous. “Hi, Wartortle. I’m Alya.”

Wartortle gargles happily and blows a bubble in Alya’s face. She pops it with a finger, giggling. Nino wants to curl up and die, because how can his Pokémon have more game than him.

Nino gives Wartortle a poffin, then promptly returns it to its ball. “Once he starts with the bubbles, he won’t stop, and then this whole place will look like a washing machine exploded,” he says seriously, and Alya laughs.

“What about you? Do you have a partner Pokémon?” he asks, trying to play it cool, because he _knows_ she has a Fennekin, but all at once Alya’s entire body sags and her eyes go dim. Nino wants to stab himself with a fork.

“I’m so sorry,” he says quickly, “if I’m overstepping or anything, I’m so sorr-”

“No, it’s fine,” Alya manages. “Just…I have a Fennekin. Or had, I guess. Someone stole her.”

Oh, shit. He’s fucked up real bad, hasn’t he.

“Alya, I’m so sorry,” he says truthfully. “I didn’t know.”

“Ah, it’s fine, how could you have known? It…it’s just.” She buries her face in her hands. “I feel so _useless._ I’m a reporter, and I _know_ I could be doing something more about this. I just…I don’t know. I don’t want to get in the way, either.”

Nino thinks about it for a minute.

“I think,” he says slowly, cautiously, “I think you should…go with your gut, and do what you can. I mean, it’s better to try and fail rather than not trying at all. You might regret that shit for the rest of your life.”

He hadn’t meant to sound so depressing, but Alya looks like she’s actually considering his advice, which is a boon in and of itself.

“You’re right,” she says at last, standing so abruptly she almost knocks his (now cold) coffee off the table. “I’m going to do what I can.”

She grins at him. “Thanks, Nino!”

“Uh you’re welcome-” Words fail him as she kisses him swiftly on the cheek and practically sprints out of the café.

And. Well. Nino’s not just a little bit in love. He’s totally and utterly screwed.

* * *

Alya hits the ground running, then gives up and takes the [Gogoat](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Gogoat_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) Shuttle to _Max’s Place for All Things Tech. _

It’s advertised as a plain electronics store, but it’s really got everything anyone could ever need, and, well, Alya knows what she wants.

She’d got Nino to thank, really. He’d really given her a solid piece of advice back there. And also a really good conversation. Her mind drifts against her will until she forces herself to snap out of it. Fennekin. Fennekin. She’s got to get Fennekin back first, and then she’ll have all the time in the world to think about cute bespectacled DJs.

Her phone buzzes. A message from Marinette.

**[10:47 AM] Mari:** I’m in Lumiose, are you free?

Alya pauses, then types out a reply, feeling a little guilty for lying. But Marinette had been clear that she hadn’t wanted Alya to put herself in danger. She’d had a point, of course, but Alya’s never been the type to sit back and do nothing.

**[10:50 AM] Alya:** Sorry, girl! I’m really busy today. I’m free tomorrow, though, so how about then?

She slips her phone back into her pocket, trying to convince herself that she’s not being totally dishonest.

She’s been to _All Things Tech_ before with some of her co-workers, who had been looking for microphones. She’d been awed by the displays then, and she still is now: dozens and dozens of products lined up against the walls. Alya isn’t much of a tech geek, but some of these gadgets really tempt her. Like ooh, the new Holo Caster? She’d _die_ to own that.

Unfortunately, Alya is a working woman on a limited budget.

One of the flying robots – Markovs, Max had called them during their interview – hover over to her.

“Welcome, customer!” it chirps. “I am Markov, and I’m your personal assistant while you’re in this store, and I can help you find anything you’d like! Are you just browsing, or would you like some help?”

Alya’s got a plan, and she thinks it’s a good one. “Hey, Markov. Do you have any, uh, hovercraft? With an attached camera? Like, flying security cameras, basically.”

“Second floor,” Markov says, and heads off at once, leaving Alya scrambling behind. She can’t help noticing the other displays, catching sight of the Pokédex, one of the few things in the store Max hadn’t invented himself. She’d got mad respect for the dude. He’s an inventor, an innovator, and a Gym Leader to boot. How the heck he juggles all three roles, Alya will never know. She can barely manage being a reporter.

She’s interviewed him once, and it had been one of the best conversations she’d ever had. Max was a little weird, sure, always talking in terms of statistics and probabilities and percentages, but his tone had softened as he talked about his work, and she’d managed to catch him mid-battle, too. She’d been envious at the time, watching him and his Pokémon move perfectly in sync - a level most Trainers could only hope to achieve. It’s widely known that the bonds between Trainer and Pokémon are sacred, almost magical, because no Professor or Researcher has ever managed to explain it.

Here’s the gist: the more you battle with your Pokémon, the more your bond with it grows, until you see what it sees, feel what it feels. It takes years of effort and skill, and Alya can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like. That’s why it’s so hard being a Trainer. It provides no real source of income, and unless you’re the best of the best, like Gym Leaders, the Elite Four, or even the Champion, it’s really hard to keep going.

Alya’s never been a real Trainer, never battled seriously, but she’d caught an exhibition match between two Elite Four members when she was a kid. And oh, had that been a sight to behold. The two Trainers had been so in sync with their Pokémon that they hadn’t even needed to call out attacks – it had just been a steady rhythm between Trainer and Pokémon, more like an intricate dance than a battle. It was gorgeous, inspiring, and the entire stadium had been silent as they watched the spectacle. Trainers of that level really were fucking amazing.

She’s never seen Marinette battle, but she thinks back to the day Fennekin had been stolen, when Marinette, still drunk, mind you, had stood up to the thief. She’d spread out her arms as though shielding Alya, and Altaria had extended its wings, a perfect mirror of its Trainer. Or maybe it had been the other way around.

Their bond must be strong.

Idly, she wonders about the bond between her and Fennekin. She hadn’t really battled with it much, but she’d like to think they had a strong bond nevertheless. She certainly feels like a part of her has been missing ever since Fennekin had been taken.

She snaps back to reality when Markov shows her to the camera displays. She notices the sign for the Cameraman Trainer Class on the wall. On further inspection she spots more of the signs for different Classes. Alya’s never really been into that. None of them suit her, anyways.

There are dozen and dozens of cameras in front of her, some tiny enough to be held on her thumb, but Alya isn’t here for that. What she needs is a camera that can circle the city from above – she can’t track the fool who stole her Pokémon, but she sure can try to spot him whenever he decides to emerge from his underground sewer.

Markov leads her to a smaller display and informs her, “These are the ones closest fitting your description.”

Alya picks one up. It’s small, probably won’t be seen easily in the dark. She activates its Hover Mode and watches as it levitates in place, emitting the slightest hum.

Markov shows her how its range and path can be controlled remotely, and Alya is pretty much sold. She buys two – one to cover South Boulevard, and the other for the North. She’s pretty much broke, now, but she’s kind of excited now that she’s put her plan in motion.

She goes back to work, but her mind is whirring. Already she’s thinking about the end of the day, when she can activate her cameras and (hopefully) catch a Pokémon thief.

* * *

Marinette wakes up with a god-awful bedhead and feeling super grouchy all through her morning chores, so she ends up over kneading the dough.

She’s fairly confident she hadn’t been followed last night, but she’d locked every door and window just in case, and she’d set her [Absol](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Absol_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) as guard all night. Still, though, she hadn’t slept.

The chores take a while, and it’s seven in the morning when Marinette finally opens up the shop. She lets Altaria out of its pokéball reluctantly, and it beats its wings once, twice, before taking off into the morning sky. Marinette watches until the Dragon blends into the clouds, and then she turns away, frustration building up again.

Somehow, she feels like she’s lost. And she _hates_ losing.

The early morning brings a lot of new Trainers, drawn in by the smell of warm pastry. Marinette usually likes to chats with them as they order, asking them where they’re headed, cooing over their Pokémon and the like, but today she feels strangely mute. She’d always enjoyed hearing their stories, but she’d never realized how much she’d missed being a Trainer herself.

Manon walks in for her shift about an hour and a half later, and Marinette takes a welcome break, this time choosing to spend it outside rather than holed up in her room. She releases [Sylveon](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Sylveon_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) from its pokéball, and it bounds to her at once, ribbons reaching out to grab her hand. Without warning, it tugs her along the path to Lumiose, probably wanting to see her parents, and she gives in, jogging along.

The road from Santalune to Lumiose is a beautiful one, a maze of bushes and flowers. It’s an early route, she knows, one that many beginner Trainers take to visit Professor Fu’s lab, perfect for catching some low-level Pokémon - wild [Flabébe](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Flab%C3%A9b%C3%A9_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) flit among the flowers, hiding at once when she passes by, and Marinette catches sight of a [Skitty](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Skitty_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) lounging in the sun. She passes by two Trainers poised to get ready for battle, and she can’t help smiling at the sight. 

Sylveon only picks up the pace when they cross into Lumiose, forcing Marinette to break into a run. She ends up having to dodge a wild cyclist and another Trainer who appears to have just figured out he owns roller skates, so by the time her Pokémon bursts into her parents’ bakery on South Boulevard, Marinette, winded, collapses at the table closest to the door while Sylveon lets out a happy cry and throws itself into her mother’s arms.

Her parents appear quite unsurprised by her sleep-deprived state, even though a few customers shoot her weird looks. Her father sets down a fragrant cup of tea in front of her with a wink, and Sylveon follows him, purring. He chuckles and pets its soft fur with his enormous hand. 

“Would you like to stay with Mama and Papa this week?” Marinette asks it kindly, giggling when it jumps up into her lap in response. She’d caught it as a tiny [Eevee](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Eevee_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) and had left it in her parents’ care as she herself traipsed all over Hoenn, and it had evolved into Sylveon shortly after their move to Kalos. As an Eevee, it had had the habit of climbing onto her lap and shoulder, but now it still doesn’t seem to understand that it’s bigger and heavier to hold. Marinette doesn’t really mind, though. She hugs Sylveon close, pecking it on the head, and Sylveon looks back up at her with bright milky eyes.

Her mother hands a package over the counter to a customer with the usual “Thank you, visit again!” before turning to Marinette. “Sylveon is always welcome here, you both know that.” 

“I know.” Marinette rubs the Pokémon’s belly, and Sylveon purrs, content. Sylveon behaves sometimes like a lot of [Delcatty](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Delcatty_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) do: it loves to sunbathe and take long naps, but Marinette had trained it up since it had evolved and she knows it can hold its own in battle.

Which is a problem, now that she thinks about it. It gives her one less Pokémon to take with her as she patrols the city - she kind of scoffs at herself as she thinks it: who does she think she is, the police? - but now she’d feel mean to rescind her offer. Lumiose is a lot different from Santalune, where a lot of wild Pokémon often roam into the bakery, curious and tame, and she knows her parents miss Sylveon sometimes - they’d practically raised it, after all.

“We’ll fatten you up so good,” her father croons, and Sylveon, who has always been a bit of a diva, is clearly eating up every bit of the attention and is absolutely loving it. “We’ll give you poffins every day, the pink ones that you’ve always liked. Marinette isn’t feeding you well, is she? _Is she?_” The last words are accompanied with a swift poke to Marinette’s side, and she chokes on the tea she’s drinking.

“So what brings you here, sweetie?” her mom calls, and Marinette pauses mid-sip. She hadn’t really expected to be here, after all, but she kind of wants to make the most of this. 

“Just meeting Alya,” she bluffs, praying that Alya will be free a little later, so Marinette doesn’t have to end up completely lying. “Manon is taking over my shift.” She texts it to Manon as she says it, and her phone buzzes a minute later with a grudging response of agreement, accompanied by a series of rude emojis and the warning that Marinette owes her now.

“I should probably get going,” she says, her mind racing figuring out a plan. “I want to stop by the fabric store, too, to buy some supplies.” Another lie. She supposes she’ll have to make a habit of it now. “And I’ll go see Alya after that.”

“Oh, she dropped by this morning,” her mother says, as Marinette gives her father a quick kiss on the cheek and scratches behind Sylveon’s ears. “Give her our love!”

“Will do,” Marinette calls, breezing out the door.

She checks her phone and fires off a quick text to Alya - _I’m in Lumiose, are you free?_ before walking to the nearest board of Lumiose’s City Map. She finds what she wants almost immediately - Max’s store: _All Things Tech_, located near Centrico Plaza. It’s not too far from the Lumoise City Press where Alya works - perfect. She knows Max - everyone does, not only because he’s Lumiose’s Gym leader, but he’s also a skilled inventor and the quality of his work is said to be second to none. Marinette winces as she checks her wallet, but she’s too far caught up in her plan to really care.

She begins her walk around the city, choosing to take the long route rather than cut right through the center, letting out her Absol for want of company. Rather doglike, it licks her face once before running ahead, stopping every once in a while to check if she’s following. The passers-by give Absol a wide berth, which is just fine by Marinette, who is tired of dodging people after the morning’s adventure, but it does make her a little sad to see the way people regard her Pokémon, with distrust and a little fear. Certain Pokémon types - like Dark, Ghost, and Poison - have a certain stigma about them, but Marinette had found out quickly that while Absol looked intimidating and had been a _nightmare_ to catch, it loved affection just as much as any [Pikachu](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Pikachu_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)).

Marinette makes multiple stops - that is, at every single clothing store she passes. Absol whines every time she does so, but Marinette can’t help it - the freelance designer in her eats up every frill, every bit of glitter on every dress she sees. Fashion trends are best experienced in person, after all, she thinks as she snaps pictures of a particularly stunning purple gown. She might make something similar to give to Manon for her next Contest.

Some stores seem way too posh for her budget, but Marinette lingers outside anyway, gazing at the mannequins at the windows. A limo pulls up right next to her, forcing her to jump out of the way, and Absol growls.

A girl wearing sunglasses, a white fur coat, and the thinnest heels Marinette has ever seen gets out of the vehicle. She fixes Marinette with a contemptuous glance, lip curling in disgust, and Marinette has to bite her tongue to keep her from snapping. 

A [Vespiquen](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Vespiquen_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) floats to the other girl’s side, buzzing threateningly. Absol growls again - it hates most Bug types. Marinette places a hand on its fur, making a shushing noise. The girl flips a long blonde lock of hair behind her shoulder.

“Get your _beast_ under control,” she says in what might be the most pretentious accent Marinette’s ever heard. “Ugh.” She flounces into the store, a butler trailing after her.

Marinette scowls behind her. She recognizes that voice, even though she’d begun putting it together after seeing the Vespiquen - it’s Chloe Bourgeois, daughter of the mayor and occasional model. Marinette recognizes her from the tabloids - Chloe had gotten into quite a bit of trouble when she was younger, and her precious Daddy had always gotten her out of it. Marinette isn’t one to hate people after just one meeting, but she decides she might make an exception this time.

“Come on,” she says to Absol, who is still growling at the doors. “Let’s go.”

She finds _All Things Tech_ fairly easily after that, a large store with glass doors. Marinette withdraws Absol to its pokéball: she’s never been inside the store before and Absol is the type to knock things over in a fit of excitement. She’s a bit excited herself as she gazes around the store: she sees Trainers poring over the new model of the Pokédex, tiny holographic maps of every region lining the walls, and a large screen playing a video of a [Shinx](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Shinx_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) evolving. 

She ends up thoroughly distracted at a display full of watches, which, apart from showing the time, displays the weather, the temperature, a Trainer’s location on the Kalos map, and how close wild Pokémon are. She’s wondering whether or not she should go nuts and splurge when a tiny levitating robot zooms in front of her and chirps, “Hi!”

Marinette blinks. It takes her a minute to realize that the tiny hovering thing in front of her is not, in fact, a talking [Rotom](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Rotom_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), so she raises a hand weakly and says, “Hello,” back. 

“I’m Markov!” The robot buzzes. “I’m your personal assistant while you’re in this store, and I can help you find anything you’d like! Are you just browsing, or would you like some help?” When Marinette fails to respond in time, Markov’s tiny eyes glow and produce a tiny screen in front of them, a layout of the store. “We have Trainer accessories on this floor, household items and smart devices on the first floor…”

“Cameras,” she blurts out quickly. “I need cameras, as small as you make them. Maybe even ones where I could access the footage remotely? Do those even exist?”

“A lot of photographers plant cameras in specific locations to capture images of rare Pokémon,” Markov supplies helpfully. “Just earlier today we had a customer who purchased a hovercraft with an attached camera. Would you require something similar?”

“Uh, I’ll take a look, I guess,” she mutters. 

Markov’s eye light up again. “Second floor! Follow me!”

She has trouble keeping up with the little robot, who can float above the crowd easily, but Marinette ends up having to shove her way past a large group of Trainers in order to make it to the elevator, ducking to avoid other robots. 

“There are a lot of you around here, huh?” she says, once the doors have closed.

If Markov had had a chest, she’d imagine he’d be puffing it up with pride right about now. “Yes, Max made us to help his customers. He used to be able to devote a lot more time to the shop, but he is busy with his duties as Gym Leader now, so made enough of us to help everyone!” It pauses as though out of breath, and Marinette admires Max’s workmanship. 

“He’s a genius,” she tells Markov.

“I think so, too,” Markov agrees in a tinny little voice full of pride. “I will relay this message to him.” It pauses again. “Relayed. Thank you. Customer feedback is always helpful.” 

“How-?”

“In-built messaging.”

“Ah,” she says. “Of course.”

The doors of the elevator slide open with a soft ding. This floor is less populated, but Marinette is still stunned. The floor they’re on, Markov explains, caters more to Trainers of different occupations. He points out sections as they pass by - and Marinette recognises the characteristic items of Rangers, Bikers, and Backpackers.

They stop at a section marked _Cameraman_. Marinette blinks at the displays. “I don’t even know where to start,” she tells Markov.

“No need to worry,” the robot responds at once.

Markov walks Marinette through the specs of all the cameras they see - some are bigger but are more powerful, while the smaller ones are easier to conceal but often don’t capture the detail most Cameramen want. Some cameras are the recording type that are used during actual television interviews, and some are tiny enough to be the size of her fingernail, and Markov tells her they can be attached to buttons. Marinette feels woozy by the end of the tour. She has a new respect for photographers now, she thinks ruefully, as she settles on buying three cameras, two small enough to fit into her palm and one that she plans to attach to her person, that have enough battery power to record for two days straight. 

Markov scans her credit card with a single glance. Marinette has to admit it’s terribly efficient. 

“Thank you,” she says. 

“I hope I get to serve you again,” Markov says gracefully, before buzzing off to another customer.

Marinette checks her phone: her messages notify her that Alya’s very sorry, but she can’t make it for lunch today. She’s free tomorrow, though, so how about then? Marinette texts back with an affirmative, and then pulls up the Lumiose Map on her phone. 

She scans the city, eyes narrowed, before settling on an alleyway just a little ways from Rouge Plaza, which she knows for sure is usually empty. She’d gotten lost there the first time she’d ventured into Lumiose alone, ending up hopelessly lost in a foreign city. She shudders at the memory. 

She takes a Lumi Cab to Rouge Plaza, and finds the abandoned alleyway easily. As she’d expected, it’s deserted to the point where it’s almost eerie, and the lone storefront is empty. Perfect.

She plants the cameras in the most inconspicuous places she can reach: between a crack in the walls, and in the window of the empty store. When she’s done, she tries to spot the cameras from a layman’s perspective, and she concludes she couldn’t have done a better job.

She takes a cab back to the exit gate leading to Parterre Way, managing to catch the tail end of her shift. Manon is mollified when Marinette promises to make her a new dress for her next contest, and the rest of the day passes without incident, unless you count Marinette burning a batch of macarons out of sheer excitement. When it’s 5 o’ clock, she closes up the shop.

Altaria shows up about an hour later, landing on her windowsill with a sharp cry and ruffling its wings, sending tiny white feathers all over her carpet. Marinette, who had been pacing her in room, feeds it a poffin and returns it to its pokéball. She gazes at the red mask sitting on her dressing table, at the red hoodie and black leggings spread out on her bed. 

Marinette hates losing. And this time, she’s got a plan.

* * *

Adrien hates posing.

Or maybe he’s just outgrown it. He definitely doesn’t remember hating modelling so much when he was younger. Now, though…now it’s just a pain in the ass.

Especially since his phone is buzzing every two seconds, and Adrien wants to answer it, if only just to get away from the camera. He’s currently shirtless, draped over a sofa, as his [Luxray](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Luxray_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) lounges at his feet. The visual is supposed to be intimidating and sexy. What people don’t know is Luxray had gotten its claws stuck in the carpet and delayed the shoot by fifteen minutes because Adrien was stuck on de-clawing duty.

Which he supposes is fair. Luxray is his Pokémon, after all, one of the first his dad had ever let him catch. Back then, he’d been grateful to hold the little Shinx in his arms and play with it, but now he wonders if his father had allowed him to keep it merely because it looked as good in photos as Adrien did.

The camera’s still clicking away in front of him. It’s a good thing Adrien’s resting bitch face doesn’t betray the complete and utter boredom he feels, because _goddamn_ he’s so bored. It speaks volumes that the most interesting thing he’s done all week – no, all _month_ – was accompany Nino to the bakery to check out his friend’s crush, when he’d literally travelled all the way to Johto for a shoot the week before.

Which, of course, makes Adrien crave the cookies he’d had the day prior. His hunger must show in his expression, because there’s a chorus of “Oooh” behind the cameras, and the creative director sharply tells him to keep doing what he’s doing.

“Yes, that’s exactly it, Adrien. Don’t lose focus,” the man says.

It’s easy to focus because of how famished he is. He hates his stupid diet. He wants the red velvet at _Boulangerie_, but instead of just a slice, he’d like the whole damn cake, please.

“That’s a wrap, I think we got it,” says the photographer, and everyone claps as Adrien relaxes and stands, thanking everyone for their time. He takes a look at a couple of shots – they’ve come out great. Luxray especially looks like a real lion and not just an overgrown cat.

“Good job,” he croons, running a hand through its furry black mane. Luxray purrs at the praise and rolls on its back for a belly rub. Definitely an overgrown cat.

Nino’s been blowing up Adrien’s phone for the past half an hour; he reads the messages as he throws on a shirt and walks to the limo. He’s lucky it had been an indoor shoot today. Outdoor shoots tend to draw in crowds.

He doesn’t want to sound ungrateful, but he doesn’t really enjoy the attention that comes with being a model since childhood. People either tended to assume he was a total brat or the epitome of perfection, when really he could be either, or neither, or both. He was just…him. A normal dude with his own issues.

Well, wasn’t that just great. Another celebrity telling the masses, _“Oh, I’m just like you!”_

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It’s still got some gel in. Ugh. He needs a shower.

Nathalie is in the front seat. “The photos will be sent to your father for his assessment.”

“Any news on when he’ll be back?”

“None.”

Adrien sighs, leaning against the seat and trying his hardest to not feel disappointed. His father had gone to Galar a couple of months ago on business and then he’d just…stayed. It had been the final blow for Adrien, who’d spent years and years trying to gain the man’s approval.

He hasn’t seen his father since he’d left, but it wasn’t like he’d been a particularly attentive dad even when he’d been in Kalos.

Whatever, Adrien forces himself to think. It’s whatever. He doesn’t care.

They’re halfway to the apartment when Adrien spots the sign for _Boulangerie Patisserie _just around the corner and he calls for his driver to stop. Nathalie turns around.

“A bakery?” she asks coldly. “Adrien, you know you have a diet to adhere to.”

“I’m stopping for Plagg, not for me,” he lies. “Nino told me about this place, said the poffins were really good.”

Nathalie considers this. “Make it quick.”

“Thanks!” Adrien slips on his sunglasses and dashes into the store before anyone can get a good look at him.

Tom is at the counter today, wiping it down. He smiles when he sees Adrien. “Nino’s friend from yesterday!”

“That’s me,” Adrien agrees, and then, realizing he’d never properly introduces himself, he says, “I’m Adrien.”

“Welcome back, Adrien,” Tom booms, spreading an arm out at the lines of pastries in front of him. “What would you like?”

“Um, some poffins, please. And a slice of cheesecake?”

“Of course, son.” Tom cuts a slice of cheesecake and lowers it into a box with the bakery’s logo on it.

The words are said casually, of course, and he’s sure Tom must call a lot of people that, but Adrien feels all warm at the word _son._ Wow, he really is kind of pathetic.

“Does your Pokémon have any particular preference for poffin flavour?” Tom asks. He shows Adrien all the different colours. “We’ve got the standard mint, strawberry, and the like, but we’ve also got Pecha berry, Mago berry…” He glances downward. “[Sylveon](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Sylveon_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) likes the ones with Oran berries in ‘em.”

Adrien looks down, where a Sylveon’s pawing at the glass, making the cutest whining noises. He bends down to scratch behind its ears, and the Pokémon perks up immediately, mewling and circling Adrien’s feet excitedly.

“Sorry about that,” Tom says, sounding more fond than sorry. “My daughter dropped Sylveon off with us this morning, just for a change in scenery.”

“This is the same daughter that made the cookies?”

“The very same.”

Adrien hums. “Could you tell her a thank you from me? Those cookies were _amazing.”_

“Will do,” Tom chuckles.

Sylveon is purring. Adrien pets its head; its fur really is incredibly soft. Its Trainer, the mysterious Dupain-Cheng daughter, is taking care of it well.

“I’ll take the Oran berry poffins, then,” he says. “And an extra one for Sylveon, too.”

Tom guffaws. “You spoil Sylveon just as much as I do,” he says. “I like that.” Adrien flushes at the praise.

Back home, he collapses onto his bed and offers the poffins to Plagg, who pounces on them at once. After a moment, he videocalls Nino, who picks up at the first ring. “Adrien,” he says, “Adrien. Adrien.”

“Nino. Nino. Nino.”

“I talked to her!” Nino bursts out.

“Congrats!” Adrien says, with equal enthusiasm. “Turns out you’re capable of standard communication with members of the opposite sex after all!”

“You suck and I hate you and I’m hanging up,” Nino says, wrinkling his nose. Adrien knows he’s only teasing, but he still feels a little sorry.

“Sorry, I had a bad shoot, ignore my salt,” he says, waving a hand. “Continue.”

“Okay, so she was _so_ cute,” Nino says, sounding as though he’d found Arceus itself. “And we got along so well, and she knew who I _was_, Adrien!”

“Okay, wow,” Adrien admits, lifting a brow. “That’s cool.”

“She is cool, she works for the Lumiose Press,” Nino says, his eyes taking on a dreamy, faraway look that he usually employs when he’s talking about food, or music. Adrien can’t help snorting. Nino flips him off.

“And, well. Oh. Well. I’m not even sure if I can tell you this, but don’t spread it around just in case,” Nino says, suddenly looking uncharacteristically serious. “Her Fennekin was stolen.”

Adrien, who’d already known this information, feigns confusion. “What? Wouldn’t we have heard about that on the news or something?”

“That’s what I thought too!” Nino exclaims. “Must be a pretty big cover-up, huh? Stealing Pokémon is a pretty serious crime.”

“Weird,” Adrien says thoughtfully.

“She seemed pretty cut-up about it, obviously,” Nino says. “I think I helped her. Kinda.”

“Nice,” pronounces Adrien appreciatively.

“She kissed me-”

Adrien sits bolt upright. “What?”

“On the cheek!” Nino yells, but his entire fire has gone tomato. Adrien _screeches_ with laughter at the sight, throwing his phone on the bed face-down, while Nino yelps, “Stop it! You’re making it worse than it has to be!”

Still chuckling, Adrien picks up the phone again. Nino’s still red as a Razz berry, but he really does seem utterly enamoured by the girl: he talks about her more enthusiastically than he’s talked about anyone in ages, and Adrien is happy for him.

He kind of hopes he’s that nuts about someone, someday.

Nino hangs up after a while because he has to work. Adrien sighs at picks at his cheesecake. As much as tries to keep his mind blank, he always ends up thinking when he’s alone and bored like he is now, and the thoughts always leave him disappointed in his own life.

The fact of the matter is that Adrien’s bored. He’s bored with fencing, piano, and modelling most of all. He needs something interesting, something adventurous, something spontaneous in his life right now. And he doubts he’s going to get it living vicariously through Nino.

Plagg, full from the poffins, curls up on his belly. Adrien pets him absently, feeling his eyes flutter shut, his mind full of the taste of cookies and cheesecake crumble.

The door bangs open just as he’s about to fall asleep.

“Adrikins,” Chloe drawls, “you’ve _got_ to stop sleeping with your makeup on.”

“I don’t –” he feels his face – “fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed,” Chloe says primly, dumping a couple of boxed on top of him unceremoniously. “Ta-da, bitch. Got you a new wardrobe. Your old shirts _suck_.”

“Thanks, but I didn’t ask.”

“Aaaand I don’t care,” Chloe shoots back at once. They shoot each other twin smirks. Adrien is glad for this friendship: for a long time, Chloe had been his only friend, but she’d grown clingy and kind of insufferable at one point. Hence the _Adrikins_ shenanigans, a nickname she’d given him to kind of mark her territory, to tell everyone that Adrien was hers. When he’d finally caught on, it hadn’t gone down well.

They’d fought a lot over the years, but they’ve somehow managed to stay close, which he’s thankful for. Even though she hates Nino. Even when she buys him clothes for no reason.

“Ugh, the shit I had to go through to get this stuff for you,” Chloe sniffs. “There was this girl with an Absol hanging around the outside of the boutique –”

“Oh, I love Absol,” Adrien says at once.

“Of course you would, it matches the darkness in your soul,” Chloe says dismissively. “Anyway, this beast was, like, drooling all over the sidewalk-”

“I’m sure that’s not an exaggeration-”

“Vespiquen had to fight it off-”

“Chloe, you haven’t battled in _years.”_

“Shut it and wear your clothes,” she finally snaps.

Adrien grins his victory. He points at the cheesecake on his bed. “Want some?”

“Cheesecake? I’d rather kiss a [Goomy](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Goomy_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)),” Chloe says, nose wrinkled. “Can you belive some Trainers actually catch that puddle of slime? Sabrina almost stepped on one the other day, oh my gosh-”

Adrien lifts his head. Sabrina is Chloe’s innocent, rather naïve right-hand woman. Adrien likes her well enough, even though he can’t manage to talk to her about anything for more than a couple of minutes at a time, but he’s remembered something. Her father is the Chief of police. He might know something about the thefts.

“Hey, can I have Sabrina’s number?” he asks as casually as he can manage.

Chloe looks at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “What? Sabrina? Why?”

“She’d applied for a position at Agreste Fashion a while ago, Nathalie wanted me to get her phone number in case,” he lies.

Chloe _hmphs_. “I’ll text it to you.”

“Love you, Chlo.”

“Piss off.”

Later, he texts Sabrina and asks if he could talk to her dad, if it wasn’t any trouble. He grins. He’s got some research of his own to do.

* * *

Midnight finds Marinette flying into Rouge Plaza on Altaria, her hands shivering in anticipation. The Plaza is blissfully empty, with only a few stores open, so Marinette returns Altaria and sends out her [Roselia](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Roselia_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), the most harmless-looking Pokémon she had on her. Hopefully, once the shops closed and the city was dark, she’d look like a scared little girl with her flower Pokémon, not a veteran Trainer with a Pokémon that was as thorny as it was beautiful.

She enters the Pokéball Boutique and pretends to look around for a while, all the while keeping an eye on Prism Tower’s sparkling lights. 

A member of staff notifies her that the shop is closing soon, so Marinette takes her leave just as Prism Tower powers down.

It’s suddenly very dark and very, very cold.

“Come on, Roselia,” she says.

Marinette sets off slowly down the Road to Autumnal Avenue, making sure to walk as slowly and unsurely as she can manage. There aren’t a lot of people: most of them are heading home, anyway, and Marinette makes sure to ask for directions back to Rouge Plaza - the more confused she appears, the better. She takes a turn into Rouge Plaza again, pretending to check her phone to see where she was. She makes another turn that she knows leads to a popular sushi restaurant, and then finally - _finally!_ \- Roselia tugs on the end of Marinette’s hoodie and lets out a soft cry.

“It’s okay, Rose,” she pacifies as loud as she can. Her voice is shaking, she realizes, and she’s not even acting that part out. “This way must be the right one. We’ll get to the North Boulevard soon enough.” 

They begin to walk again, and this time Marinette feels it too. 

They’re being followed.

She finds the tiny camera attacked to the front of her hoodie, making sure it’s still there. She’d attached it securely enough, and it’s too small to be spotted in the dark.

Right on cue, Marinette spots the entrance to the deserted alleyway on her left. She takes it, passing the empty shop and going until she hits a dead end.

It’s quiet. Roselia is still, as though waiting for something. Marinette puts on her mask. Her hands are shaking. She’s not sure if it’s from nervousness or anticipation.

She hears footsteps. They quicken, then still. 

Then she hears a laugh.

“It’s you,” says the voice from the day before, and the same woman from before steps out from a dark corner. “I didn’t think you’d actually be stupid enough to try and find us again.”

“Well, I guess you didn’t scare me enough,” Marinette says.

The woman laughs. “I can’t believe how incredibly stupid you are. But -” and now her voice takes on a sharp edge - “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Let’s see if you’re not all talk,” Marinette goads casually. Years of being a Trainer has allowed her to easily rile up her opponents. Throwing the Trainer off-balance is part of the game, even though it’s kind of an underhanded tactic. After all, if a Trainer is agitated, it reflects in their mindset, and it’s pretty important to keep a calm, clear head while battling.

“I’m going to _love_ taking away your Pokémon,” the girl hisses.

She sends out a [Mightyena](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Mightyena_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), and well. Marinette is really cursing herself for leaving Sylveon at her parents’. She’d _love_ the bonus of having a type advantage right now. 

She assesses her opponent. The Mightyena looks pretty big, pretty bad, and is snarling to boot. The way its Trainer is smiling immediately sends Marinette on edge. The battler in her is itching to make the first move, but, with a flash of realization, she remembers the cameras. 

Talk, she thinks. Make her talk.

“Is that yours, or did you steal it from someone?” she calls out.

The girl laughs. Her laugh is really pissing off, Marinette decides. 

“I wouldn’t be stupid enough to tell you that,” she sneers. “I might use your Roselia when I beat you, though. Or even that Altaria. Got any others I should know about?”

“You really must be stupid if you think I’ll let you take my Pokémon,” Marinette shoots right back, with as much disdain as she can muster. “But then again, I lured you here pretty easily, so maybe you _are_ that stupid.”

The girl growls. Her Mightyena is itching to battle, Marinette can see, its red eyes glowing and its claws raking against the ground. Marinette can feel her resolve snapping, and then -

“Get the pokéball,” the girl commands.

Marinette is thrown off-guard with the unexpected command, and then dread pools like ice in her stomach: because _of course_. They’re not after Roselia, they’re after its pokéball, because once they get that, the deal is pretty much done: they can return the Pokémon to its ball and make their escape. Marinette immediately stows hers back at her belt just as Mightyena lets out a roar and leaps forward. At close range, it’s kind of scary how fast it can run, and it’s crossed three-fourths of the distance to her in the blink of an eye. 

“Dazzling Gleam!” she calls out, and Roselia throws out an arm. Marinette shields her eyes as beams of sparkling pink light hit the wolf in the chest, sending it crashing backward to its Trainer, who lets out an infuriated yelp. In that moment, though, Marinette finally gets her first real look at her opponent. She’s wearing that same brown shirt with the butterfly on it, and her eyes, which flash a dull green, are full of hate. 

Roselia lands lightly in front of her, the glow dying down. Super effective though the move may have been, Mightyena gets up again, growling. It must have been at a higher level than she’d thought, Marinette thinks with grudging respect. 

“You think you’re the only one who can hit hard?” the other girl calls back. “Ice Fang!”

Mightyena darts forward at the command, fangs bared, and it snaps at Roselia, who manages to jump upwards at the last second. The air where the attack had been released cools so quick that Marinette, standing a few feet away, shivers, and she orders Roselia to fire a Sludge Bomb immediately.

Mightyena retreats, tail swishing, then returns with a quickly-timed Sucker Punch powerful enough to send Roselia crashing into the wall behind them. The bricks crack as Marinette cries out, feeling a sting of pain in her own abdomen, and the wolf advances, looking like death itself with its glaring scarlet eyes, ready to pounce.

It’s not even looking at Roselia, now stirring, attempting to rise. Its eyes are fixed right on Marinette, and her hand flies to her pokéballs at once. 

Off from the side, Roselia fires off another Dazzling Gleam in its desperation, while Mightyena counters at once with a Dark Pulse, and the two attacks collide in a scintillating racket of light and sound. The aftershock sends Marinette flying backward, and she scrambles to get up, checking at once if all her pokéballs are still on her belt. Roselia darts back at once to her side, its tiny arms stretched out protectively, and they both watch as the other girl returns her fainted Mightyena to her pokéball. There’s a [Claydol](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Claydol_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) right behind her, humming as it bobs lightly just above the ground, and Marinette braces for another battle, but the sound of sirens stills them both.

Judging by the loudness, they’re only a street or two away, but Marinette isn’t taking any chances. Luckily, though, she’s prepared for this. She returns Roselia at once and throws Altaria’s pokéball into the air, and the Dragon materializes in a flash of blue light and swoops down on then, raising a small storm of dust and rubble. Marinette mounts immediately, looking back in time to watch the girl, looking infuriated, and her Claydol teleport into nothingness. She curses. 

Altaria raises them high enough for Marinette to see the police converge on the scene. They’ve got sirens running on their cars, flashlights in their hands as they survey the scene, and a bunch of sleuth Pokémon: [Growlithe](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Growlithe_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) and [Arcanine](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Arcanine_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) that paw at the ground and [Talonflame](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Talonflame_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) that circle the skies. It’s only a matter of time before they find the cameras, but Marinette’s computer back home will still have a copy of the footage.

“Take us home,” she says finally, and Altaria lifts them up, up, into the clouds.

* * *

Alya is fucking late to the crime scene.

She’s ashamed to even say it. She _slept_, okay? She was stupid and she slept. She’s only human, after all, and she’s barely had ten minutes of sleep since Fennekin was taken.

So she’d set up her cameras around seven in the evening. They were good. Really good. Alya kind of wished she had more, because both cameras couldn’t cover the entire city at once. Oh, well. She’d have to make do.

So she’d kept watch, slurping on a bowl of ramen. Then, around ten thirty, she’d spotted something.

It was a guy. He was wearing all black, which made her heart race, but something about his gait made her pause. He seemed way too laid back for someone on his way to steal Pokémon, and he didn’t fit the description of any of the suspects at all.

He was hanging around Vert Plaza, walking in and out of alleyways, but never straying too far. He seemed like he was looking for something, constantly doubling back and looking around corners. It had been kind of comical to watch, but Alya decided to keep one camera on him, just in case.

The other camera’d been circling the air above Bleu Plaza. Alya was looking at the footage, and then…nothing.

She wakes about four hours later to the sound of sirens. She looks at the footage from the cameras. The guy from Vert Plaza is gone. The other camera is hovering above Jaune Plaza.

The closest Plaza to Alya is Rouge, and the sirens are _loud._

“Fucking hell,” she curses, grabbing her phone, keys, and ID and running out of her apartment building. Some ardent reporter she is. Ugh.

She can see the lights from the police cars from where she is, and so she follows, her breath fogging up in the cold. She hasn’t run this hard in a while, but adrenaline makes up for lack of stamina.

She reaches Rouge Plaza in about a minute. The police cars are parked in front of the alley near the Pokéball Boutique. The sirens are off but the lights still blink, turning red and blue and casting the dark alleyway in a rather ominous light. There are a bunch of policemen milling around, taking photographs; Alya recognizes Kim at once, standing next to an attractive woman that Alya recognises as Ondine, a former surfing champion. Alya had had no idea she was a police officer, too.

“Kim!” she calls.

“Al?” he looks almost nervous to see her. Alya supposes it must because he’d gone against his boss’s orders by giving her the details of the other crimes. Ondine, who must recognize Alya from their interview, smiles, but Kim’s still looking shifty: he casts a sideways look at a shorter, pudgy man with shocking red hair. Oh, Alya infers, there’s the boss.

Said boss turns around and frowns as Alya approaches.

“No civilians,” he says, brows furrowed. ‘Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but the situation is being investigated, we’re extremely sorry if your sleep was disturbed.”

“Chief Raincomprix-” Kim begins.

Alya cuts him off. “Alya Cesaire, Lumiose Press,” she says in her best professional voice, stepping forward and showing her ID. The Chief squints at it, and, deciding that it’s real, sighs.

“No offense, lady, but I really don’t have the time to deal with the press right now,” he says tiredly. “But you’re free to ask Lieutenant Kim here any questions if you want.”

“Sir?”

“Understood, Lieutenant?”

Kim looks at the Chief in barely-concealed surprise. Some kind of understanding passes between them.

“I’ll be happy to assist you, Ms. Cesaire,” Kim says, leading her into the alley. Alya’s about to comment on the strange way the Chief had spoken when she catches sight of the alleyway and gasps. “What the heck happened here?”

The place looks trashed. There’s rubble on the floor, a large smoking pit that looks like it’s sizzling with acid, and a whole ass _crater_ in the wall. She shudders. What in Arceus’ name had gone on here?

There are policemen dusting the place for prints and Growlithe digging in the gravel, but in this wasteland, Kim admits it would be really hard to recover anything. He does point out evidence from the battle, though: claw marks in the ground, the impact site right in the middle of the depression in the wall where a Pokémon might have crashed. The acid, Kim says, was probably from a Sludge Bomb or Gunk Shot, and the tiny holes in the opposite wall was probably from a Dazzling Gleam.

“How the heck do you know this stuff?” she asks, kind of impressed.

“We have to pass a test to join the force,” Kim says. “I drilled this shit into my brain as a cadet.”

They wander a little further into the alley, where they are fewer policemen. Kim turns to face her with a solemn expression on his face. “Al. Was it you who planted the camera?”

“No! What?” Alya blinks at him, her heart racing. Her cameras had still been recording when she’d left her apartment. There’s no way they’d been found, right? Right? “What camera?”

“We found a camera planted in the window of a store,” Kim says. His eyes are narrowed. “Was it you?”

“No,” she says truthfully, although her mind is already storing this piece of information to be used for later. Does that mean someone else is investigating, too? Does she have an ally?

He sighs. “Well, fuck. I’d kind of hoped it was you, because then we might’ve had a chance to get the footage.” At Alya’s questioning look, he says, “The camera’s one of Max’s, the kind where you can access the footage remotely, like a security camera, but that also makes it _so_ hard to trace. Max needs to realize that his stuff is great, but it could turn out bad when they’re used against us…well, it’s not much of a lead, anyway, the thing’s been smashed to dust…”

“Kim,” she says in a low voice, “when the Chief said you’d tell me everything –”

“He means it. Earlier today, your boss got the okay to go public with the story.” He massages his forehead. “We’ve achieved nothing by trying to catch the baddies from the shadows. They’ve clearly tried to steal someone else’s Pokémon tonight, but I guess this Trainer was pretty fucking strong.” He chuckles. “Good for them.”

Alya’s heart stops. “Who was the Trainer?”

“They were gone when we got here, but we’ve got residents who say they heard a girl’s voice, and we’ve got the Rouge Plaza camera footage, too.” Kim crosses his arms. “Once we find them, maybe they can help us out. Arceus knows we need it.”

“So…what does this mean?”

“It means there’s going to be a press conference tomorrow, where the Mayor and the Chief will probably explain everything in detail,” He crosses his arms. “Like you said, the people need to know. They need to know to stay safe.”

She exhales. “That’s good. That’s really good.”

“Between you and me, I’m not looking forward to all the patrol I’m gonna have to do,” he chuckles.

She smirks. “Wow, upholding the good name of the Lumiose Police, aren’t you?”

“Hey, hey, don’t go ruining my good name, now.”

She grins. “So that’s the green light on a story, right?”

“Yeah. Hope you got everything you needed.”

She blinks. “Fuck.”

_“Alya.”_

She holds up her phone sheepishly and turns on the recording app. “Now, Lieutenant Kim, could you tell me what exactly happened here?”

“You’ve _got_ to be fucking kidding me,” Kim says.

* * *

So Adrien fucking clowned himself.

It’s kind of funny, now that he thinks about it. He’d called the Chief of Police as a favour for a concerned friend to ask about any developments in the case of her stolen Pokémon. Chief Raincomprix had always been a nice man, and he’d always liked Adrien, so he’d told him not to worry, son, his teams were patrolling the city constantly and were bound to catch the rogues soon enough.

“We’ve got extra security in Rouge Plaza now, Adrien,” the Chief had said kindly, while Adrien hurriedly jotted down notes. He kind of felt bad for deceiving the poor man, but, well. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, right?

“Why Rouge?” he’d asked, out of genuine curiosity.

“Well, besides it being the scene of the last crime, it’s where the new club’s opened, _Le Petit Papillon_,” Chief Raincomprix explained patiently. Poor guy probably thought he was comforting Adrien, not giving away vital information. “Three of the five cases happened in close vicinity to Lumiose’s clubs. The thieves are probably taking advantage of their victims’ inebriated state to steal their Pokémon.”

“That’s…sick,” Adrien had said, horrified.

“We really hope to catch them soon.” There’d been a pause, before – “Tell your friend we’ll get her Pokémon back in no time. And, uh, I’d appreciate it if you kept the, uh, finer details to yourself, Adrien.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you so much. My friend will be relieved knowing you’re on the case.”

“Thanks, Adrien.”

He’d hung up, feeling a little guilty, but also very excited.

Pulling up a map of Lumiose on his phone, Adrien marked the clubs he knew, mostly thanks to accompanying Nino on gigs. There was _Le Petit Papillon _in Rouge Plaza, _Dark Owl_ and its sister _Dark Cupid_ in Magenta Plaza, _Miraculer_ in Bleu Plaza, and _Robostus_ in Centrico Plaza.

He looked at the information carefully. Nobody, he figured, would be stupid enough to lie in wait outside _Robostus_, which was right at the base of Prism Tower. And it seemed more likely than not that the thieves weren’t going to follow their pattern of ambushing clubgoers twice in a row. They’d probably target another place.

Adrien stood, excited. That left the areas without clubs: Jaune Plaza and Vert Plaza. He was getting somewhere.

Then, of course, came the sad realization that he couldn’t be in two places at once.

He could’ve asked Nino to join him, of course, but Nino had his own career shit to deal with. Adrien didn’t really want to drag him away from his music without a really good reason.

And besides, a solo stakeout sounded kind of fun.

Adrien would like to say that he’d done some more research. He’d like to say that he’d chosen Vert Plaza because it had more shops than residential buildings, that it was the smallest of the five Plazas, that the lights were kind of old and malfunctioning.

But really –

“Eenie, meenie, miney, moe,” he’d recited, “catch a [Bellsprout](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Bellsprout_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) by the toe, if it Stun Spores, let it go, eenie, meenie, miney, moe – oh, don’t look at me like that, Plagg –” for the Meowth had paused in the act licking its tail to gaze over at Adrien with the most unimpressed look he’d ever received in his life. He looked at where his finger had landed, and voila, Vert Plaza it was.

So here he is, dressed all in black – which, in hindsight, might not have been the best idea, like, well, way to look shady, Adrien! – skulking around alleyways, checking every corner, hunting for danger.

He’s not gonna lie, it had started off pretty fun. The idea of possibly finding the guy who’d been stealing everyone’s Pokémon sounded…pretty fucking cool. And also dangerous, of course.

It’s just…he feels like he needs this in his life right now. The thrill of chasing someone who’s done something bad. Adrien’s had…the stalest of lives. He remembers wanting to be a Trainer as a kid, commanding his Pokémon action figures like he was really in a battle.

That had been a long, long time ago. Back when his mom was alive.

She’d liked the idea of him being a Trainer, travelling the world and meeting new people, though, she’d said, tweaking his nose, “You have to come home, Adrien, once in a while, promise?”

“Promise,” he’d giggled.

The thought of home just makes him sad, now.

He exhales slowly. It’s just past midnight, so the clubs are probably not closing anytime soon. Adrien finds an empty bench and sits down. He lets out [Umbreon](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Umbreon_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) for want of company, and the Pokémon, upon realizing that it’s night-time, purrs contentedly and curls up in his lap at once.

He pets its fur. Umbreon’s always been a beautiful Pokémon – the best of the Eeveelutions, in his humble opinion, although the Slyveon he’d seen that morning from the bakery had been gorgeous, too.

Thinking of the bakery makes Adrien hungry. He hopes Plagg, who had been fast asleep when Adrien had left, hadn’t woken up. Plagg was a brat, but the Meowth tended to freak out sometimes when Adrien wasn’t around, and the freak-outs almost always were heard by his neighbours, who would complain to the security, who might call Nathalie…

Okay, slow down, he thinks. He’d left Plagg the rest of the cheesecake. He’d be fine.

Another half hour passes, so slow that it’s painful. Adrien’s really regretting his decision, and besides, it’s freezing. Umbreon is shivering a little, too, so he returns it to its pokéball. He does one final sweep of the area, but, like before, there’s nothing. So he’s left standing in a deserted path, looking and feeling incredibly foolish.

“Fucking hell, Agreste,” he grumbles to himself, staring up at the sky. “You’re not a superhero.”

He gets out [Honchkrow’s](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Honchkrow_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) pokéball, utterly, horribly defeated. Honchkrow caws balefully at the sight of him, annoyed and sleep-deprived. He must look a mess. He kind of feels like one, too.

He gets on, and they rise into the sky. Adrien’s still feeling pretty shit, mind you, but something about Flying always manages to make his heart lift. Maybe it’s the feeling of the wind in his hair, the feeling of being so close to the moon and the sky and the stars, the way he can see the whole of Lumiose, glittering beautifully in the night, the sound of sirens cutting through the air – wait, what?

He glances around frantically for the source of the sound, and – there! The sirens sound louder than anything he’s ever heard, the noise magnified in the stillness of the night, and he sees a couple of police cars speeding in the direction of Rouge Plaza. He wants to punch himself in the face. Rouge Plaza was the most happening place in Lumiose right now: why had he chosen to hang around dull ol’ Vert?

Adrien squints at the place: there’s a flash of light that makes him wince, followed by a loud banging noise, and then a large birdlike Pokémon with white wings takes off from the place with breathtaking speed.

Adrien’s first, rather foolish thought, is that it’s a [Lugia](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Lugia_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)). From where he is, it kind of looks like one, but nobody’s ever managed to catch a Lugia before in history. Plus, it’s _fast_, rising up and blending easily into the clouds even as Adrien watches, gobsmacked. He wonders if he should give chase, but then gives up on the idea when he sees more Flying-types rise into the air: Talonflame, that belong to the police force.

He signals Honchkrow to Fly them back home, where he lands on the rooftop and slips back into his room through the window. Plagg is still asleep, peaceful as ever, but Adrien’s feeling far from calm. He’d just witnessed a getaway, of all things. Could that have been the thief? Could Adrien have let a criminal go, just like that?

Still, he thinks giddily, he’d been close. Kind of. He’d been out there, at the very least, just a little off in his, _ahem,_ calculations. He can do it – he can get them next time.

He doesn’t manage to sleep until about three hours later, and when he finally drifts off, there’s a smile on his face. He has a feeling he’s going to see this story in the paper tomorrow.

* * *

**POKEMON THEIVES AT LARGE IN LUMIOSE CITY**

Criminals Still At Large, Police Say

Alya Cesaire **|** Lumiose Press

**Lumiose, Kalos: **Five cases of Pokémon theft have been reported to have occurred in Lumiose City over the past month,  
police reveal. The thefts occurred at night, in largely-deserted alleyways of the city. The thieves have  
shown no discrimination in the type of Pokémon they steal and are known to Teleport from the scene of the crime.

Spokesperson for the Lumiose Police, Lieutenant _Lê Chi__ế__n Kim_, said that unfortunately, the criminals were still  
at large, and that an attempt at another theft had been thwarted by an anonymous Trainer at Rouge Plaza  
in the early hours of this very morning. Released footage from the Plaza’s main camera shows a Trainer with a  
Roselia being followed by an unknown woman in brown. Police have been unable to identify either party.

The currently-missing Pokémon include a Chespin, a Fennekin, a Chingling, a Ponyta, and a Teddiursa. Any  
sight of these Pokémon in the city must be reported directly and immediately to the Lumiose Police.

There will be a press conference by Mayor André Bourgeois and Chief of Police, Roger Raincomprix,  
at 10:00 A.M. Sources reveal they plan to address rumors of a Team Flare revival and…**Continued on Page 3**

Marinette doesn’t bother reading the rest. Alya’s sent her a text at four in the morning, saying she’s coming over later, which suits Marinette just fine. She texts Manon to take the day off and that she doesn’t owe her anymore, _ha_, and then releases Roselia from its pokéball. She’d healed it up as soon as she’d gotten home, of course, but she offers it a freshly baked poképuff as a reward for saving them both last night. Roselia closes its eyes and sways on the spot, which is how Marinette knows it’s happy. She smiles as Roselia finishes the food and jumps up on the windowsill, sitting down in the middle of all the other flowers and blending in perfectly in the process. It likes to soak up the sun in the daytime. Marinette figures it deserves a spa day.

She opens up the shop. A couple of Trainers, who had been waiting at the entrance, come in immediately: they’re all talking about the news of the thefts, and, once they’ve exhausted that topic, one young boy immediately launches into his story of all his encounters in Santalune Forest and how strong the city’s Gym Leader was. Marinette, who knows Nathanael, feels a glow of pride at this, even though she knows most Trainers know only a small part of his strength. Nathanael’s Gym, being one of the easiest to access in the region, is considered the first of the eight Kalos Gyms, and so most contenders make a point to visit it first. Accordingly, Nathanael’s Pokémon are at lower levels for his challengers, but seasoned Trainers who know how to ask can usually request a Gym Leader to use their real aces, which are far stronger than the ones they advertise to the beginners. Marinette had learned this first-hand when she’d met him and requested a battle, nearly losing to his Normal-Type team. Idly, she wonders if Marc, the nice bartender from _Papillon_, had taken up Alya’s offer to meet him yet.

The small talk keeps her entertained for a while, after which she busies herself with making a new batch of poffins and the like. More customers come and go, some even from other cities checking out the place on the advice of friends, which makes her smile, and she makes a note to tell her parents about it. It’s a fairly regular morning, she thinks, for someone who’d spent her night fighting bad guys on the streets of Lumiose.

Roselia’s humming from the windowsill, its flowers blooming in the sun. Marinette lets out Altaria and Absol as well: Altaria flies out the window, upsetting Roselia in its little flower box, and Absol curls up by the oven at once. 

Alya shows up on the back of what Marinette recognizes as one of Lumiose Transport Corporation’s rentable Gogoats, red in the face and eyes shining behind her fogged-up glasses. She throws herself into the bakery and tosses Marinette Sylveon’s pokéball, which she must’ve collected from Marinette’s parents on the way. Alya waits impatiently as Marinette hands a buyer his order, and then, when the door shuts, she explodes.

“Did you see!” she shrieks. “Did - you – see!”

“I saw,” Marinette says.

“This is _real!_” Alya crows. “Some of those criminals tried to take someone else’s Pokémon, and they fought back! I mean, they disappeared afterward, which is still kinda suspicious, but we found a broken camera, and a few locals said they said a girl wearing red asking for directions! I bet you someone tried to sneak up on her, and the girl kicked their ass, and then got away from the city as fast as possible.” She pauses. “The cab drivers didn’t see anyone, though. She must’ve Flown.”

“What happened to the camera?” Marinette asks, suddenly conscious. 

“Remotely operated and no memory card,” Alya says gloomily. “And the one that was found was smashed to absolute smithereens. They’ve still got people on-site, though, looking for more.”

“Man, Al,” she says, with a tinge of admiration, “you’re really on top of this.”

Alya’s trying and very visibly failing to keep the pride out of her voice. “Well, I mean. Yeah. I feel like I have to be, for Fennekin’s sake. Kim talked me yesterday when he was done searching the place, and Chief Raincomprix let me look at the site and ask some questions. The Mayor had apparently dismissed the first few crimes as cases of bad timing, but this feels like a _real_ coincidence now. Someone is really out there, stealing Pokémon. The Chief’s putting out a statement today. There’s going to be a curfew for everyone to get indoors after midnight.”

“Wow, that’s kind of nuts,” Marinette says, fully aware that she’s going to be breaking this rule on the daily. “I hope people take this seriously.”

“Same.” Alya clasps her hands together. “Security is going to be tightened past nine p.m, especially outside the clubs…there’s talk of patrol squads around the city, increased security at the gates...it’s all looking really grim. I think...this a bigger deal that I realized. Than any of us realize, really.”

Marinette voices what she’s been thinking since day one: “So we know that this isn’t just one person, and it’s probably not a group of small thieves banding together. Do you think...maybe Team Flare is coming up again? Somehow?”

“It’s impossible,” Alya murmurs. “They were squashed years ago, when Diantha was Champion. The police shut down everything: the labs, the café they used as a front...everything.”

“But they never found out exactly what Team Flare was really up to, besides capturing Xerneas and Yveltal,” Marinette points out. “Maybe someone...an admin, or someone, passed on the information. To finish the job.”

“Lysandre wanted to blow up Lumiose,” Alya says, horrified. “Lumiose gets more tourists than most other cities in the world. If word spreads that there’s some...some underground crime boss attacking Trainers, just like last time -” She doesn’t finish, looking up at Marinette with worried eyes. Alya, she knows, has lived in Lumiose for most of her life, and she loves the city like home. Marinette reaches out and grasps her arm.

“Maybe we’re overthinking this, Al,” she says. “We don’t even really have any concrete information yet.”

“That’s true,” Alya murmurs, “but if it’s something this big, why’d they steal Fennekin, then? Fennekin is _harmless._” Her head droops, auburn waves of her hair falling over her face so Marinette can’t see her expression. 

She feels a little bit uncomfortable at the dark turn the conversation had taken and blinks for a second, unsure of what to do. Of the two of them, Marinette is by far the most dramatic, and Alya’s the one who keeps her head. It’s weird seeing Alya all down in the dumps. 

She stands suddenly, and Alya looks up, startled. Marinette retrieves a plate of pastry from the kitchen, still warm, and sets it down in front of her friend. Absol, perhaps sensing the tension, lets out a whine and sits next to Alya, wagging its tail. Alya pets its head and it lies down at her feet, mollified.

“Eat,” Marinette commands. “I’ll make you a cup of tea, too: let’s go window shopping in Santalune when you’re done.”

Alya lets out a surprised laugh. “Hard to refuse that offer.”

“I’d figured.” Marinette goes back into the kitchen to make the tea.

Santalune City is only a short walk away; Alya brightens up as they get closer. “It’s been a while,” she gushes. “Is Ms. Bustier still running the school? Ooh, I hope that noodle place is open -”

They stop outside the nearest clothing store, _Madame Lenoir’s_, which is far smaller than any of Lumiose’s. Marinette has fond memories of the place; she’d even sold the owner a few outfits she’d designed. Her eyes rove over the familiar display, but there’s a new poster on the wall that draws her gaze.

“Ooh, Adrien looks _good_, huh?” Alya purrs, giving up on any and all forms of subtlety and jabbing her in the side repeatedly. 

“Oh my _god_ shut up, people can hear you,” Marinette begs. 

“What? It’s not like Adrien’s best friend is somehow hanging around here, listening to you thirst over his boy, tell him, and then have him personally call you out for being the millionth member of his fan club.” Alya rolls her eyes. 

Marinette clamps her hand over Alya’s mouth as a guy wearing a red cap and glasses, headphones around his neck, exits the shop and gives them both a weird look. His eyes light up a little, though, when they settle on Alya, almost like he recognizes her, but when he makes eye contact with Marinette on accident, he flushes immediately and walks away before she can think about it any longer.

“He heard, he _heard,_” she groans.

Alya glances at the guy’s retreating back. “So what?”

“So he thinks I’m thirsting after Adrien! Which I’m _not_, by the way, thanks for that -” She hits Alya in the arm. 

“But you are.”  
  


“I am not, Al, oh my god-”

“But you said he’s hot.”

“Of course he’s hot, he’s a _model,”_ Marinette hisses, severely regretting that one night she’d had too much wine and confessed to Alya that she’d seen Adrien make a guest appearance at a concert in Hoenn as a teenager and had fainted on the spot. She’d ended up losing out on both her dignity _and_ watching the Contest. She’d had to be carried out by security, for gods’ sake. 

It remains one of the most mortifying moments of her entire life, and Alya has never ceased teasing her about it since.

“Okay, anyway,” Alya stresses, looping an arm through Marinette’s and dragging her inside the store, “let’s see what loverboy wants us to wear, shall we?”

Dress-up turns out to be kind of fun. The poster Adrien Agreste is on is actually an advertisement from three seasons ago, so they have a good time trying on the outrageous-looking couture and judging each other’s clothes. Alya laughs so hard at a wide-brimmed hat Marinette finds, which is large enough to shelter a good three people, and seeing her friend wipe actual tears from her eyes makes Marinette smile. 

“Come on,” Alya says when she’s finally recovered. “Let’s go get some food and convince Nath to draw us like one - well, _two_ \- of his French girls.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Marinette grins, and away they go.

* * *

Nino is a DJ by night, but in the daytime he’s Adrien’s errand boy.

He remains unpaid for his services, which he thinks is a travesty. Adrien thinks Nino’s being dramatic about it. He’s got a [Slowpoke](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Slowpoke_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) that knows Teleport, so he can probably visit each important city in Kalos in a matter of minutes if he really wanted to. Adrien had thought it was awesome, and so had Nino, at least until Adrien had asked him to pick up a parcel from Snowbelle City, pretty please?

He’s joking, of course. He’s always happy to help Adrien, because he kind of owes his success to him. Adrien had heard Nino play at a smaller club in Cyllage City and had liked him so much he’d personally asked him to play at his next runway show. Needless to say, Nino’d gotten a whole queue of people offering him concerts in Lumiose. It had really been a dream come true.

He’s grateful to Adrien, of course he is. That still doesn’t allow him to wake Nino up and call in a favour.

“I don’t care that you’re my best friend, I hate you,” Nino grouses, rubbing his eyes. His phone says that it’s almost ten a.m., so Nino really should be getting up by now, but Adrien doesn’t need to know that. No, Adrien needs to know that he owes Nino big time.

“Please,” Adrien begs. “It’ll take you two seconds, I’ll buy you croissants from _Boulangerie._ I’ll buy you cookies. Macarons. Heck, I’ll buy you a whole cheesecake. Ninooo-” Ugh. Adrien really is a drama queen when he’s stressed. Nino huffs out a laugh despite himself.

“I’m going, you doofus,” he says, and Adrien’s chorus of _Please, Nino, please_– instantly turns into _thank you, I owe you, I love you–_ until Nino yells at him to stop.

Apparently Adrien’s stylist has left his entire second outfit in a boutique in Santalune, and it’ll take Nathalie – or, indeed, anyone – too long to retrieve the clothes and come back in time. The shoot today is for a big client, and everyone is freaking the fuck out. For a team so large, Nino thinks, annoyed, they sure can be really inefficient. You’d think the stylist would double-check once in a while.

Nino throws on a cap and grabs his headphones. Wartortle is swimming in his tub, so he can’t even take a bath. He can deal with that when he’s back home.

**[10:03 AM] Adrien:** _madame lenoir’s_ in santalune. she has everything. so sorry ily

**[10:06 AM] Nino:** this is the last time

He pockets his phone, grabbing a pokéball from his belt and releasing Slowpoke, who appears with a yawn that almost makes Nino fall asleep all over again. It blinks up at Nino sleepily, like, _Do I have to be here? I want to go to sleep._

“Me too,” Nino agrees. “Five minutes, I promise.”

Slowpoke yawns again. Nino sighs. “Santalune, Teleport!”

Teleporting is a weird feeling. He’s not even sure how it works - it’s probably some super-complex space-time science stuff - but all Nino knows is that it feels weird as hell to be in one place, and then another, within the span of a few seconds. His stomach always feels weird after, too.

He ends up right outside Santalune’s Pokémon Center, a bright red building with a glowing pokéball sign on the front of the roof. There are a bunch of Trainers outside, and they jump when Nino appears.

“Woah, he Teleported,” one girl gushes, “that’s so cool!”

Nino grins as he returns Slowbro back to its ball. Always happy to put on a show.

He’s always liked Santalune: it’s a cute, peaceful city, that’s got, in his opinion, the right balance between nature and civilization. He can see Santalune Forest from here, acres and acres of trees where Grass and Bug Pokémon go wild. Nino had been in there just the once as a kid– being from Cyllage and owning a lot of Water-types, he’d gotten _creamed_ in there. He shudders at the memory. Grass-types just…aren’t his thing. He’d grown up jumping into the ocean and swimming with the Slowpoke and [Horsea](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Horsea_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), so maybe that would explain his affinity for Water-types. Plus, Nino’s a very chill, go-with-the-flow type guy. Water-types suit him just fine.

As he walks across town, he spots Nathanael, the City’s Gym Leader, talking to a Trainer just outside the Gym. Judging by the Trainer’s downcast expression, he’d just lost, but Nathanael’s patting him on the shoulder and speaking kindly, probably encouraging him not to give him, to try again. Gym Leaders are like that – hard to beat, and they never go into a fight with the intention of going easy on a Trainer, but they are also gentle, and they never hesitate to give out free advice. Nino had learned a lot from Gym Leaders during his time as a Trainer.

Nathanael notices him and smiles, and Nino waves as he passes. They’d been old travelling buddies as Trainers, and they still keep in touch. Nino’d gone for his exhibition match when Nathanael had been appointed Gym Leader, and he’d been awed by his skills. Nino himself hadn’t progressed beyond Badge Four, so he had a lot of respect for Nathanael for sticking it out.

_Madame Lenoir’s _is only a few minutes away, a cute little boutique with a line of rosebushes outside the front display and an old, old poster of Adrien that makes Nino smirk and take a picture. The doorbell jingles when Nino walks in, and a tiny old lady rushes to the counter at once, smiling. “Hello, hello! You must be a here for Adrien’s clothes?”

“Uh, yes ma’am,” he says.

“I’m Marianne Lenoir, I’ll get them out for you in a moment, please make yourself at home,” she says, smiling, and then bustling off deeper into the store.

Nino wanders around, looking around. He wouldn’t be lying if he said he felt a little out of his depth, because although his best friend is a model, Nino’s never really had the time to notice or appreciate clothes. Adrien has a good eye for them, though, and he always helps him dress before a gig.

Nino runs his hand over a display of scarves, feeling the different materials in a vain effort to try and appreciate the feeling of them since he doesn’t really care about their look. His fingers stop at a red scarf that feels incredibly soft to the touch. He pulls it out. It’s almost the exact same shade of red as his hat, and it’s got a squiggle of gold at both ends. Nino kind of…really likes it.

He juggles it from hand to hand, and then notices an identical blue one on the rack. He yanks out it with none of the delicacy he should probably use, and then takes both items to the counter, where Madame Lenoir is folding Adrien’s clothes neatly and placing them into a long box.

“How much are these?” Nino asks, placing the scarves down in front of her. Her eyes brighten as she hands Nino Adrien’s clothes and examines the scarf.

“You’ve got good taste,” she says, “these are the last two Marinette originals I have left.”

“Marinette?” Nino says aloud. The name sounds familiar, but he can’t place it. “Is she a designer?”

“She freelances quite a bit, a bunch of popular Coordinators have worn her clothes to the Grand Festival,” Madame Lenoir says.

Maybe that’s it, Nino thinks, handing over the money and shoving the scarves into the bag Madame Lenoir’s given him.

He’s at the door when he hears the voices.

“Ooh, Adrien looks _good_, huh?” says a voice that makes Nino stop dead in his tracks. It’s Alya, oh my god. What is she doing here? Is it fate? It must be fate for him to have met her again. Alya, who he can can’t seem to forget about, who seems smart and witty and sharp all at once. Alya, who’s…currently calling his best friend hot. His heart sinks.

“Oh my _god_ shut up, people can hear you,” another voice begs. 

“What? It’s not like Adrien’s best friend is somehow hanging around here, listening to you thirst over his boy, tell him, and then have him personally call you out for being the millionth member of his fan club.”

Well, if that isn’t just dandy, Nino thinks sarcastically, gathering his nerves and walking out of the store. Alya doesn’t notice him, but the girl she’s with does, and she shoots him a panicked look. Nino feels himself blushing, so he turns around before Alya can see his cherry-red face.

One he’s sure he’s out of eyeshot, Nino releases Slowpoke and Teleports back to Lumiose. It’s a short walk to the studio Adrien’s shooting at, but Nino goes as fast as he can, anyway.

There’s a rush of air from the chorus of relieved sighs that are let out as soon as Nino walks in; in fact, the entire place brightens as though it had been holding its breath all this while. Adrien, posing in between two golden statues – ah, the big client Adrien had been talking about was probably Audrey Bourgeois - breaks character long enough for him to grin widely at Nico and shoot him with finger guns. Nino snorts, leaning against the wall to watch. What a dork.

Adrien’s pose screams dangerous-yet-sexy, and with his slightly-open mouth and hooded eyelids, Nino’s fucking sold on whatever Adrien’s selling. He’s great at what he does, despite Nino knowing how much he really hates it. Adrien’s what all boys want to be – gorgeous enough to look lethal. If Nino hadn’t known just how lonely Adrien had been all his life, he might’ve even been jealous of him.

The shoot gets over fairly quickly, even though Adrien has to change into two new outfits. Nino claps along with everyone else when the director calls for a wrap, and Adrien sighs, slumping over a little as he makes his way over to Nino.

“Nice job, hotshot,” Nino says, holding up the picture he’d taken of Adrien’s poster from before. Adrien groans.

“I need a drink,” Adrien says in response. He really does sound tired, and there are dark circles under his eyes, covered up with a layer of concealer.

Nino frowns. “Didn’t get your beauty sleep?”

“Not nearly enough.” He stretches languidly, like a [Liepard](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Liepard_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) in the sun, and Nino, once again, is hit by just how attractive his friend really is. He doesn’t really blame Alya for crushing on him.

“Here, I got us something,” he remembers, digging into the bag for the scarves and handing Adrien the blue one. He winds the red one around his neck. “Look, we match!”

Adrien presses it to his cheek at once. “It’s so soft!”

“It’s a Marinette original,” Nino says.

“Sounds familiar,” Adrien frowns.

‘I know, right?” Nino plays with the little fringe at the end of his scarf. “The shopowner said she’s made stuff for Coordinators, though, so maybe that’s where we know her from.”

“Huh,” says Adrien thoughtfully, running a hand through his hair. He puts on his scarf, too. “How do I look?”

“Like the you’re the hottest thing this cold, cold winter,” Nino says.

“Ooh, you flatterer.” Adrien chuckles.

Nino watches him fold the scarf up neatly and place it inside the bag, and blurts out, “I saw Alya today again.”

“_Tell_ me you talked to her,” Adrien says, looking up at once.

“Uh, no, she didn’t see me,” Nino admits, his voice sounding small. He clears his throat. “She was too busy looking at you.”

“Me? What the fuck, I was here the whole time.”

“A poster of you,” Nino says.

Adrien blinks in confusion, and then, as though understanding, laughs. “Oh, Nino, don’t read too much into it. She was just _looking_ at it, that doesn’t mean anything –”

“She called you hot.”

“I mean, aren’t I, though.” Adrien waggles his eyebrows. Nino makes a grab for his scarf, and he darts out of the way, laughing.

“Look, man, don’t stress too much about it. I’ve never even met her, and, from what you said before, she seemed to really like you,” he says reassuringly, once Nino lets him come closer again. “She hasn’t asked _me_ for an interview, has she?”

Nino shakes his head. Adrien claps him on the shoulder. “Tell you what. Let’s go over to Lumiose Press. You’re going to go ask her out for a celebratory coffee, right now.”

“What the heck?” Nino screeches. “I can’t ask her out now, I’m not ready!” He pauses. “Wait, celebratory?”

Adrien looks at him like he’s nuts. “Okay, so you might want to read the paper first.”

* * *

Alya is like a hero at work. All her co-workers congratulate her for her constant vigilance, cursing themselves jokingly for not being the first one on the scene. Alya’s boss gives her a clap on the shoulder and tells her to keep up the good work, and Nadja Chamak – Lumiose’s leading Primetime host and Alya’s all-time idol – tells her she’d done a good job, and that she’d love for Alya to join her on the show, one day.

If Fennekin hadn’t been gone, this would’ve been one of the best days of Alya’s life.

Her boss had been kind enough to offer her a day off – she’d heard from the police that Alya’s Fennekin had been one of the stolen Pokémon, even though those details hadn’t been released to the public yet. Alya’s not quite sure whether she should take her up on the offer, but she’s tired. After the excitement of the night before, Alya had deactivated her cameras – they hadn’t gathered any useful footage, anyway – and spent most of her morning writing up the article, going as fast as she could so it would make the morning news. She’s fucking _spent._

Around lunchtime, when she can’t keep her eyes open any longer, she tells her boss that she’s going home and packs up her stuff. She reminds herself that she’s going to have to stay up all night again, probably. An intrepid reporter never sleeps, after all.

She’s just about to leave when she spots a familiar face.

It’s Nino Lahiffe from _Boulangerie,_ she recalls, and suddenly she feels wide awake.

He’s with another guy – a tall blonde wearing sunglasses and a blue scarf. He looks vaguely familiar: Alya squints at the two of them with interest. They look like they’re in the middle of a disagreement. Nino is flapping his hands about like a [Psyduck](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Psyduck_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), shaking his head repeatedly.

The blonde looks away as though exasperated, and he ends up meeting Alya’s gaze. Caught, she turns away at once and begins walking in the direction of _Boulangerie._

“Hey!” comes Nino’s voice. “Alya, right?”

She turns. Nino’s stumbling forward as though pushed. His friend is nowhere to be found, which is weird, but Alya isn’t exactly complaining.

“Hey, Nino,” she says. “What’s up?”

He scratches the back of his head. It’s kind of cute. “Uh, I saw the paper this morning. Just wanted to say…good on you for being proactive about it.”  
  


She smiles, apparently unable to help herself. “I had some help,” she says, nudging Nino lightly with her elbow.

Alya’s generally a pretty outgoing person, but she’s not outright flirty. Which is why, when her stomach starts doing little somersaults at the contact, she’s kind of surprised.

She shouldn’t be, really. She knows she’s attracted to him: he’s tall, with warm brown skin and smiling eyes, and he can keep up with her in a conversation, which is a huge plus. She hadn’t been lying about being a fan, either. She’s seen him playing before. The dude is _insane._

Unfortunately, though, his tongue seems to be failing him at the moment. Alya takes pity on him. “I’m kind of wiped out right now, but I was gonna grab a coffee from the bakery. Do you wanna come with me?”

“Coffee.” Nino blinks at her owlishly, and if she didn’t kind of think it was adorable, she would’ve laughed. “The drink, coffee.”

“Yes, doofus,” she says. “Coming?”

They end up walking to the Gelato stand, because Alya’s too tired to walk all the way to the bakery and too broke to take the Gogoat service. Nino gets a Razz Berry sorbet and Alya gets a Tiramisu-flavored gelato, mostly because she needs to taste anything vaguely coffee-like. They both settle on the nearest bench and look at Prism Tower. It’s a nice day, with a cool breeze.

“Make sure I don’t fall asleep,” she tells Nino.

He snorts. “Don’t count on it. I live my life by one principle and one principle only: and that is to let sleeping people – or Pokémon - lie.”

“How can I be sure you didn’t make that up just now?”

“Once, when I was a young, travelling Trainer,” he says in a floaty voice, “I wandered too deep into Santalune Forest and happened across a young Bug-Catcher, asleep under a tree.”

Alya grins. “This better be good.”

“He was in a deep slumber,” Nino continues, “a sleep so deep an [Ekans](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Ekans_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) had coiled itself around his legs and he hadn’t even noticed. Now, most people would alert the young lad, but I – I am different. I live by a different motto. And so I left the young boy there and continued on my way.”

She covers her mouth with her hands to stop herself laughing. “Oh my god, you _didn’t.”_

“Of course not. I screamed bloody murder, and then the kid woke up and drove the Ekans away.” He takes a bite of his dessert, eyes gleaming. “What, do you take me for some kind of monster?”

She finds herself smiling. “You dumbass. I almost believed you for a second, there.”

“I was born to be a storyteller,” he says seriously, which draws another laugh out of her.

They talk for a little longer, and, oddly, even though she knows she’s going to go home and probably crash until nighttime, Alya finds she doesn’t really want to leave. Nino is nice and easy to talk to, and he kind of takes her mind away from all the stress. She’s still undecided on whether that’s a good thing or not.

“Can I get your number?” she says quickly, hoping she doesn’t sound too eager – but, y’know what? Fuck it. She wants his number.

“Uh, sure.” He rattles the digits off at a stretch while Alya enters it into her phone. When they both look up, they’re grinning.

“I’ll be in contact, then,” she says, acting serious. “For your interview.”

“Thank you, and good day to you,” he responds at once, in a fake deep voice that makes her lips twitch. They shake hands awkwardly, not quite at the stage of friendship where it’s okay to hug a goodbye. Even though she’d kissed him on the cheek last time – oh sweet [Palkia](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Palkia_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), had she been possessed at the time?

Alya barely notices the walk home. She sets an alarm for eleven p.m. and places her hand camera, phone, and jacket neatly on the desk by her bed. Tonight, she thinks, tonight she’ll be ready.

* * *

Marinette patrols the streets of Lumiose alone.

She’s still in the same hoodie and mask from before; the mask had seemed a better idea than ever now that the police are patrolling the city. She doesn’t want to be found out, even though she’s on the good side. It’s just that she doesn’t have the time to wait for the police to conduct their slow-ass investigation. Maybe it’s her many years as a Trainer influencing her: she’s just come to trust herself and her instincts far more than any news channel.

There’s also the fact that she’s going to be breaking curfew, which is, as of this morning, against the law.

It’s quite the task hiding from all the policemen; they’re pretty much everywhere: in every alleyway, roaming every street. It’s a good thing they don’t have any eyes on the roof, because that’s how Marinette is getting around.

She leaps from one complex to the next easily. By the looks of things, she’s close to Vert Plaza. She checks the time for no particular reason. The clubs are still open and curfew hasn’t even been enforced yet. Most of the crimes had occurred after curfew, when Prism Tower went dark.

Why, then, does she have a bad feeling?

She shakes her head and looks around, making sure the camera pinned to her front is catching everything she sees. She hadn’t had the chance to retrieve the other camera from the site of yesterday’s battle. She wasn’t even sure if it had been found. Either way, Marinette had retrieved the footage and deactivated the device.

The film hadn’t shown her anything revolutionary, but Marinette had gotten her first good look at her opponent: she had long brown hair that matched her clothing, with two thick locks framing either side of her face. Marinette had stared at the other girl, committing her face to memory.

She gazes down from the rooftop. Vert Plaza has always been quiet and gives off an atmosphere of being lived in, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the other plazas. She sighs. Out of all the plazas, Vert is probably the least likely to be the site of an attack. Idly, she watches a young boy exit _Caf__é Cyclone_. He’s got a Pokémon out, an [Inkay](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Inkay_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) that circles his head, making tiny squeaking noises.

She smiles, watching him for a while. The boy looks lost – he’s checking the signs. Marinette is about to help him when another she sees another figure approaching the boy.

They’re moving fast and soundlessly, and in no time at all, the person has reached the kid. They positively loom over him, who steps away, shocked. Even from where she’s watching, Marinette can tell that something is very wrong.

In a flash, the person’s dragged the boy into the closest alleyway. The boy is struggling, but the person has a hand over the poor child’s mouth. The Inkay tries Tackling the abductor, but is easily dodged.

Marinette, after a whole minute of being frozen to the spot in her horror, jumps into action.

She jumps from the roof, using the ledges in the wall to latch onto as she swings her way to the ground, trying to move as fast as she can. She’s at the entrance of the alleyway in a flash, and she calls Sylveon from its pokéball, who appears in a shower of bright pink light, swishing its tail. It catches on to Marinette’s mood almost at once, and turns its gaze ahead, snarling.

“Step away from the kid,” Marinette growls.

Both the person and the boy look over in surprise. The boy’s eyes widen, and he begins to kick harder. His Inkay, misunderstanding, sprays something black, viscous, and foul-smelling in Marinette’s general direction. She manages to escape most of it, but some of it hits her hoodie, making it look like she’d had an unfortunate incident with a paintcan.

“Hey, hey, I’m trying to help you,” she says to it. Inkay blinks in confusion.

The mystery person, who had been frozen in shock, suddenly steps away from the boy, who falls to the ground, retching and coughing. Inkay flies to his side at once, hooting and burying itself in the boy’s neck. Marinette keeps an eye on him, even as she focuses on the kidnapper.

“I can’t believe it’s you _again_,” the person says, almost in disbelief, and, with a start, Marinette recognizes the voice of the girl from before. She’s wearing a brown trench coat this time, with a mask that’s modelled after Marinette’s. She turns to face Marinette, giving her her full attention. Good. This way, the kid can get away a little easier.

“Attacking children now?” Marinette says, tutting. “That’s pretty low of you.”

“What can I say, I treat all my victims equally,” the girl responds condescendingly. “Although I must say I’m shocked to see you again. You really don’t know how to let go, huh?”

“I will _never_ stop chasing you until you return what’s not yours,” Marinette vows, and the other girl’s eyes flicker with interest.

“Ooh, a revenge plot, how cool,” she simpers. “Too bad your story ends now.”

She throws out a pokéball, and a [Skuntank](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Skuntank_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) appears. Marinette flinches: so the girl’s cockiness wasn’t totally unfounded; she’d had come prepared this time. Sylveon looks uncertain, too, its ribbons trembling, but Marinette doesn’t want to back down. Her objective, she knows, is not to win, but to distract the girl long enough for the kid to get away. She glances his way; he’s recovered from his coughing fit, but still looks too shaken to move. Marinette wills him to look her way, and finally, he does: she gives him a meaningful look, nodding ever so slightly. The boy still looks scared, but he adjusts his glasses and nods back.

The girl has apparently inferred (wrongly) that Marinette’s hesitation means she’s afraid, and she looks overly confident, now. As Marinette had suspected, her hatred for her seems to be overpowering her judgement. Good. As long as Marinette remains calm, she will always have the upper hand.

“Too scared to make the first move?” The other grins, an eerie sight in the dim lights. “Well, your loss. Poison Jab!”

The tip of the Skuntank’s tail glows purple, and it lurches forward. It’s faster than the Mightyena from their prior battle, and when Marinette calls for Sylveon to dodge, it manages to do so only barely, using the jagged bricks in the wall to leap forward and upward.

“Dazzling Gleam!” Marinette shouts, and Sylveon’s entire body glows a soft pink before the tiny rays of light descend upon them, raining damage everywhere.

“NOW!” Marinette bellows at the boy. “RUN!”

The boy responds at once; in the mayhem of the attack still raining down on them, he grabs one of Inkay’s tentacles and bolts from the place. Marinette hopes he has the sense to get the police.

Sylveon lands gracefully in front of her, still hissing. Skuntank’s still standing, baring its fangs at them. One look at its Trainer confirms she’s doing the same.

“How heroic,” she spits, “using yourself as a distraction while the kid gets to run. You’re really starting to irk me.” She snaps her fingers. “I’m losing my patience.”

The Skuntank growls once, loudly, and then, in front of Marinette’s eyes, begins to multiply, creating more and more duplicates of itself until the entire alley is full of them – rows and rows and rows of them, all dripping poison from their tails, all glaring at her with narrowed, gleaming eyes.

“I suspect this is the last time we’ll see each other,” the girl says as the army of Skuntank begins to inch forward.

Marinette doesn’t wait. She returns Sylveon to its ball, turns around, and runs for her life.

* * *

Jaune Plaza feels like the place to _be_ tonight.

Adrien hangs out in the shadow of a pillar in a random alleyway, close enough to reach the main Plaza in time if there’s danger, and well-equipped to hide if any policemen spot him. He’s a little more prepared today: he’s wearing a mask to hide his identity – it’s a cheap one, the kind you’d wear to a Masquerade or something pretentious like that – but it does the job well enough. He’d also bought a couple of healing items from the Pokémon Center: nothing fancy, just a couple of Potions and Full Heals. They’re stowed away in his backpack, just in case.

All in all, Adrien feels ready to kick some butt tonight.

For the first half an hour, everything seems normal. He has to hide from two policemen, but everything’s going fairly smoothly. Adrien briefly wonders if he should switch locations when he hears a noise.

Footsteps. Someone’s walking – no, running – at him, and by the sound of it, they’re in a hurry.

Adrien stands up straight, a thrill running through him. He knew he’d had a good feeling about Jaune Plaza tonight!

He starts forward almost eagerly. The footsteps are getting closer and closer – he’s got a hand on his pokéball – a figure appears out of the darkness –

WHAM! They collide, hard, and go down with a crash; Adrien thinks he might’ve banged his head, and he groans, thinking of how uncool he’s being, before realizing _he’s got a villain on top of him_ and he rolls away at once, scrambling to his feet.

The mystery girl’s on her feet, too. She’s wearing an ink-splattered red hoodie, giving her the odd appearance of a human Ledyba, and she’s panting, red in the face like she’s been running a while. Her expression behind her mask – just like Adrien’s – is full of panic.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she screeches. “Fucking _run!”_

She takes off to towards the main plaza, but darts at once into the opposite alleyway instead of taking the main road. Adrien squints at her retreating figure.

All too late, he hears the snarling from behind him, and he turns to face a horde of glowing eyes.

_“Fuck,”_ he whimpers, and he takes off behind the girl.

She’s had a couple of seconds head start, but years of having to look good in front of a camera has kept Adrien in pretty good shape. He catches up to her pretty easily; she casts him a sideways look, but keeps running.

“What the fuck is going on?” he shouts.

“They’ve been chasing me from Vert!” she yells back, not slowing her pace. Adrien almost trips and falls flat on his face. Vert Plaza? Where he’d hung around _all night_ the day before? He really does have the worst timing.

The girl hasn’t slowed her pace, but she’s breathing hard. Adrien keeps up, well aware of the Pokémon trailing them. There must be at least twenty of them, but they move surprisingly quietly.

“What the fuck is after us?” Adrien pants.

“Skuntank,” she wheezes back. “By – any chance – do you have any Pokémon that knows – a Ground-type – move –”

Adrien’s face lights up. “I do!”

“Use it!” she orders, grabbing his hand so that they whirl around, facing the approaching enemy.

Adrien releases his [Krokorok](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Krokorok_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)). “Earth Power!” he yells.

Krokorok stamps the floor with its clawed foot, and the ground responds, rippling forward, away from Adrien and the girl, just as the Skuntank appear in his vision. The tremor sends them flying upward with a collective, deafening shriek, and then – and Adrien can barely believe his eyes – they begin to pop into nothingness, one by one, until they’re all gone.

The girl kicks the ground. “Of course she kept the original with her – _coward _–”

Adrien has no idea what she’s talking about, or which she she’s referring to, but he doesn’t have the time to ask. Several policemen, accompanied by three civilians, appear from a path to Adrien’s immediate left. The policemen are armed with Stun guns. There are several Growlithe at their feet, teeth bared.

“Wait!” comes a little boy’s voice, and a tiny kid darts under the policemen to approach Adrien and the girl. Seized with panic, Adrien takes a step backward as the other civilians come forward, too – and Adrien recognizes Alya, with a camera in her hand, as well as Nino and his little brother, Chris. He couldn’t have landed himself in a worse situation if he’d tried.

“Wait!” Chris yelps again. He’s pointing right at the girl next to Adrien, who looks are shocked at he. “She’s the one who saved me!”

The policemen blink in surprise. “Kid, you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Chris insists. “See, there’s the splotches from when Inkay tried to attack her. It’s her, I’m sure of it. She and her Sylveon helped me escape.”

Adrien looks at the girl. She nods. “It’s true.”

The police lower their guns. One, a short girl with rainbow-colored braids, says, “Well, even if that’s the case, we’ll have to take you in for questioning, both of you –”

Adrien’s seized with a sudden surge of pure panic. He can’t take off the mask. He _can’t._ The mask is his escape, his chance to do something that matters for the good of the city, his chance to help people out. If his identity is exposed, he’ll be placed under house arrest for sure. If not by the police, then by his father.

Luckily, the girl seems to have reached a similar conclusion. “Look, the kid can tell you everything you need to know,” she says, in a tight, clipped tone. “I’m really not comfortable with speaking to you all right now.” Her gaze lands on Alya, who finally seems to come to life.

“At least tell us who you are,” she says, holding up her phone, which must be recording a video. “Not your real names, if that’s what you’re uncomfortable about. Just. It would be nice to put some names to the faces of Lumiose’s heroes.”

_Lumiose’s heroes._ Despite himself, Adrien puffs out his chest a little, doing his best to avoid eye contact with Nino. Thank _god_ for his mask, and thank _fuck_ his hood is up, covering his hair.

He looks at his clothing, all black, down to his shoes. Suddenly, stupidly, he thinks of Plagg.

“Chat Noir,” he says. Alya’s camera is on him at once, and he flushes at the attention. “I’m…Chat Noir.”

Next to him, the girl is shuffling about anxiously, looking at the patches of black on her hoodie. She seems to come to Adrien’s original conclusion of her uncanny likeness to a Ledyba, because she says, in a voice far more timid than the one she’d used with him earlier, “Ladybug.”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Alya echoes. She’s grinning ear-to-ear.

Nino’s looking more emotional than Adrien’s ever seen from him. His hand is placed firmly on his little brother’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says, “for saving Chris.”

The policemen look uncomfortable to allow them to leave so easily, but Alya shoots them a look. “Will we see you again?” she asks Ladybug.

Ladybug shares a look with him. He smiles, and she turns back to Alya.

“Of course you will,” she says with certainty.

“We’ll want a statement next time,” one of the policemen grumbles.

“You’ll get it,” Ladybug says. To Chat, she gestures with a tilt of her head, _Come on._

Chat obliges, and they both run away into a different path. He keeps looking backward to see if they’re being followed, but Alya’s words seemed to have stopped the police for now. Ladybug seems to know where she’s going: they end up in front of a vacant storefront, where she finally stops.

“Do you have a Flier?” she asks. Adrien, who is still recovering from – well, everything, manages to nod, stunned.

“Cool.” Ladybug releases an Altaria, which coos at her and squawks at Adrien. Adrien takes a step back in shock.

“Calm down, calm down. He’s a friend,” Ladybug admonishes gently, petting the bird’s large beak. Adrien can’t help staring: he’s never seen an Altaria before, and certainly not one that looks this powerful. He’d always thought of Altaria as cute cloud Pokémon, not…_this_. Not a beast with a sharp eyes and wings that could pound him into the ground in two seconds flat. It radiates power in a way he’s never seen before, and the girl seems aware, yet unbothered by it. His gaze is drawn to her instead. She must be a really strong Trainer, he thinks. Who on earth is she?

She turns around, catching his gaze, and Adrien flushes, releasing Honchkrow. He climbs on, and she clambers on top of Altaria, and they both Fly upward.

Watching Altaria’s wings glow white in the moonlight, Adrien’s struck with realization. “It wasn’t a Lugia, it was you!”

Ladybug frowns. She looks down, as though checking if they’re high enough, and then Altaria whirls on them so that they’re face to face.

“Who are you?” she demands. “Why were you in that alleyway tonight? And what do you mean_, it was me?”_

“Uh.” Adrien doesn’t mean to, but he ends up staring at her like a creep, anyway. Her hoodie’s fallen off from the winds circling them, revealing midnight hair that stands out shockingly against her porcelain skin. Her eyes glow an entrancing shade of cerulean.

She _tsks_, growing impatient. “Look, if you don’t give me some answers, I can knock you out of the sky pretty easily if I have to.”

He doesn’t doubt it for a second. “I – I’ve been trying to find the Pokémon thieves, that’s why I was in the alleyway tonight,” he says in a rush. “And I was searching yesterday, too. Only I was in the wrong place, and when I was leaving, I saw, uh – your Altaria –” he gestures at said Pokémon rather uselessly – “and that’s pretty much it. I swear I’m not one of the bad guys.”

She looks troubled. “How do I know you’re not one of them?”

He hmps. “I helped you beat the Skuntank, remember?”

“You could’ve done that to gain my trust,” she says doubtfully.

“Look,” he says, trying not to snap, “if I’d wanted to stop you, I could’ve just tripped you when you crashed into me. Remember?”

She blinks, then lets out an unexpected laugh. “Okay. I believe you, Chat Noir.”

His fake name sounds nice, coming from her. He kind of wants her to say it again.

“Here.” Remembering his healing items, he grabs a Potion from his backpack and tosses it over to her. She catches it, a little surprised. “To heal your Pokémon.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles.

“So,” he says, “I guess this makes us partners in crime, now.”

“I guess it does.” She eyes him. “I don’t know what’s motivating you to do this, but I can’t say I’m not a little grateful. And. Plus. You kind of saved my butt today, so thanks for that.”

“Anytime.”

She smiles. Altaria coos at him, now perfectly friendly, as though sensing her mood. “Would you be open to meeting up tomorrow, too?”

“I’m in,” he says at once.

“Great,” she replies, sounding relieved. Now that her face has relaxed, she seems a lot nicer, and her eyes are radiating a soft warmth. “Tomorrow, at the viewing deck of Prism Tower, midnight?”

“I’ll see you there.”

“See you there,” she echoes, waving. Her Altaria wheels about and rises higher and higher until he can’t see them anymore.

And wow, now Adrien is really aware of how fast his heart is racing. He’s really regretting laughing at Nino for his crush, because now it’s like his heart is saying _Get rekt, asshole. You’re in love._

He’ll have time to think about her later, though. Right now, Adrien wants to sleep.

“Let’s go home, then,” he tells Honchkrow, and once he’s there, he collapses onto his bed, next to Plagg - who meows a welcome - and falls right into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

Alya gets a strict talking-to the next day.

The first lecture is from the Chief of Police, who says he appreciates her spirit, but that does not excuse her from interrupting a police-led chase. The two superheroes, Ladybug and Chat Noir – they might’ve seen something Chris hadn’t, and they ought to have been taken in for questioning. Next time, he advises her to stay in her lane, and to let his force handle the rest.

Then her boss absolutely _creams_ her for letting the two mysterious masked heroes get away without an interview.

“You should’ve seen them,” Alya defends. “And I got their names and a statement that they’ll be back soon, isn’t that enough?”

Apparently not. She gets another warning for undermining police authority and gets no thanks for her video recording of the two, which is now being played on every news channel in Kalos.

She kinds of understands her mistake. She really had permitted Ladybug and Chat Noir to leave without being taken in for questioning, and she’d known how the action had looked to the officers present, but she had only done it because she’d noticed just how uncomfortable and tired the two heroes had seemed. Ladybug’s knees seemed to be close to giving out, and Chat Noir had gone stiff as a rod. It hadn’t felt right to haul them into the police station to get grilled when they’d just stopped another robbery and saved a civilian from harm.

Besides, they said they’d be back, hadn’t they?

So Alya stews at her desk, writing a piece on Cyllage City’s annual surfing competition, of all things. She’s certain it’s punishment, but she punches it out anyway and submits it for feedback while she steps out for lunch.

**[13:00 PM] Alya:** I’m going to _Boulangerie_ and I need to rant. Coming?

**[13:03 PM] Nino:** im already there lol. working

**[13:03 PM] Alya: **You have a problem.

**[13:04 PM] Nino: **tell me something I don’t know.

**[13:06 PM] Alya: **Save me a seat.

**[13:09 PM] Nino: **seat secured. coffee ordered. anything else?

**[13:09 PM] Alya: **You know me so well.

The bakery is exceptionally crowded today: Tom and Sabine barely have time to greet Alya when she walks in. Alya spots Nino at a corner table, munching on a cookie and nodding his head to the beat of whatever music’s playing on his headphones. Alya plops down in front of him with no warning; and he jumps a little, pulling his headphones away.

“Rough day,” he guesses.

“The worst.” Alya takes a gulp of the coffee that Nino pushes her way and winces.

“It’s hot,” Nino says unnecessarily.

“Thanks,” she grouses. He laughs, taking another bite of his cookie. Alya breaks away a piece quite shamelessly from another cookie on his plate.

“Mm,” she says. It’s amazing – the Dupain-Chengs will never let her down – but she still thinks Marinette’s are better. Maybe she’s biased.

“Woah, woah, okay,” Nino says, his lips all crumby. “We’re not at the level of friendship where you can just steal my cookies, woman.”

She blinks. She’d gotten so comfortable with him so quickly that it seemed impossible that they’d first met just a few days ago. She ought to apologize for stealing his food, but there’s a glint in his eye that suggests he’s just teasing, so Alya, maintaining eye contact with him still, lifts the rest of the cookie to her mouth and takes a large bite.

“Heartless.” Nino shakes his head as though disappointed.

“Weak,” she shoots back.

There’s a pause while Alya takes another tentative sip of her coffee and Nino glances back at his laptop screen.

“How’s Chris?” she asks, a little awkwardly.

“He’s okay. A little shaken. I’m sending him to Cyllage tomorrow: it’s safer; hopefully he can continue his journey from there.” Nino looks at his empty plate, and Alya winces, remembering how worried Nino had been the night before. She had just left her place, hoping to convince Kim to let her poke around the first battle site for any more clues, but she’d run into Nino shortly after, who’d been leaving _Dark Owl_ after his set, and they’d walked around for a while until Chris had run into them, screaming his head off. Luckily, Alya had Kim’s number.

Vert Plaza, where the lady in brown had accosted Chris, was completely devoid of clues, save for the black, paint-like substance that Chris’ Inkay had discharged at his saviour - the pretty girl in the red hoodie, as Chris had described her - and the tiny cracks in the ground from a Dazzling Gleam.

From there, it had been a guessing game, but quite a few people said they’d seen a girl in red running through the back streets, looking as though she was being chased. By the time the police had joined them, they’d already tracked the girl to Jaune Plaza, where she and her black-clad partner had apparently fought off the villain’s Pokémon.

It had been every bit of the story Alya had dreamed of covering, and more.

Like. C’mon. Heroes – real heroes – in Lumiose City? It sounds like something out of a comic book. Ladybug and Chat Noir, she thinks. Cool names, too, even though they’d very evidently come up with them on the spot.

She looks at Nino. “I want your honest opinion on this.”

Nino sips his drink. “Hit me.”

“Do you think I was out of line yesterday?”

Nino pauses, eyebrows furrowed as he considers her statement.

“Personally? I think you did the right thing.” He shoots her a lopsided smile. “Professionally? Maybe not the best idea. Those two _do_ know lot a lot more than what Chris saw, and they should’ve honestly been taken in for question, but…I saw them. I saw how tensed they got at just the idea of it. It’s not like what you did was wrong, just…”

“Maybe not wholly right, either.” Alya feels a little guilty. “I need to stop interfering in police investigations.”

“Maybe you could conduct your own,” he says.

“Maybe I should.” She sighs, leaning against her hands.

“You don’t need to entirely rely on the police’s information when you have your own,” Nino points out. “You could work alongside them, covering the story. And Ladybug and Chat Noir saw you stick up for them yesterday. Who knows –” his eyes shine – “you might be able to get an exclusive interview from them, too.”

She looks up at him. “Nino, that’s actually a really, really good idea.”

“What can I say.” He leans back in his chair, a smug grin on his face. “Nino Lahiffe, miracle-maker.”

She wants to deny it, but this is the second time, now, that he’s lifted her when she’s been down, and Alya is more grateful than anything to have met him.

“I owe you,” she says truthfully, and the softness she feels must be etched right across her face, because Nino coughs, a little embarrassed. The tips of his ears are bright red: it’s horribly cute.

“Anytime,” he says.

She checks her watch. “My break’s almost over. I’ll pay for whatever we eat next time we meet, okay?”

“That rhymes,” Nino says gleefully, like he’s a kid. “Say that five times fast.”

“I will _not.”_ Even though her head is repeating _The next time we meet, the next time we meet, the next time we meet – _

Nino wrinkles his nose at her. “You look like you have an idea.”

“I kind of do,” she admits. “I’ll text you.”

She manages to make it through the rest of her work day, and then leaves at around six in the evening. She apologizes – this time more sincerely – to her boss, who relents and admits Alya’d done a good job, given the circumstances.

“I just have high expectations of you,” she says.

“I intend to meet them,” Alya responds, “and maybe even exceed them, too.”

The older lady smiles. “That’s what I like to hear. Keep up the good work and I might let you take the lead on this story, even.”

At home, Alya begins to work. It had been a long time since she’d learned, but she tries to put her meagre web design skills to good use, until the finished product is something she can be proud of. She uploads the video of Ladybug and Chat Noir that she’d taken from before: it’s nothing new, everyone’s seen the video a million times, it having been played on every news channel and garnering millions of views online, but it feels nice to upload the original on this platform.

**[22:19 PM] Alya: **I’m gonna send you a link. Could you repost it on your social media pretty please?

**[22:30 PM] Nino: **sure. what is it?

**[22:33 PM] Alya: **You’ll see. <link attachment>

**[22:37 PM] Nino: **dude. bro. woah this is sickkkkkkk

**[22:41 PM] Alya: **This was the idea I was telling you about. Do you like it?

**[22:37 PM] Nino: **YES

She grins, opening up the site: it’s gaining viewers already. She feels a little thrill run through her as she looks at her handiwork, at the big bold letters that make up the header. She’s pretty proud of the name: she thinks it’s going to be a big hit. It means a lot of extra work, and probably a lot of sleepless nights, but work feels secondary, now. Now that there are heroes in town and she has a real shot of finding Fennekin.

Now that she’s creator of The Ladyblog.

* * *

Of course Alya wouldn’t drop the topic so easily, Marinette thinks bitterly as she scrolls through her phone.

She’d had a busy day at the bakery and hadn’t had time to text much, but even so, after her initial freak-out, Alya had been strangely quiet over text, at least until around eleven at night, when she’s sent a link and had asked Marinette to please, please, pretty please share the link on her social media?

Marinette had opened the link to find a whole-ass blog dedicated to…_her._

Well, _Ladybug,_ to be precise. But that’s a finer detail as far as Marinette is concerned.

Right now, the only thing on the site is Alya’s video of her and Chat Noir from the night before. Marinette had replayed the video about a hundred times, scrutinizing herself, trying to figure out if she’d betrayed anything that might have exposed her real identity, but there was none. Her mask had done its job well – she’d even made a new one, a red one with spots to match her hoodie. To match her whole brand now, apparently.

She shares the link, which is kind of ironic. Marinette promoting herself? How self-centred of her. But she doesn’t want to be a bad friend by not supporting Alya’s new pet project, and it’s not like she has a ton of followers, anyway, not like some of the others who seemed to be promoting Alya’s site, like – her eyes widen – DJ Bubbler, and even Adrien Agreste.

Holy shit. Marinette has to bite back a squeal. Adrien Agreste is a fan of her?

She has to remind herself not to squeal aloud. She’s alone, and technically not supposed to be here right now. She’d chosen to meet at the top of Prism Tower because it seemed like a good lookout spot, but she could probably also make a quick escape if she needed to. Plus, she knows for a fact that there aren’t any cameras up here: Gym Leader Max had insisted on it, but that was probably because he was so confident in his own abilities to protect his Gym – located on the seventh floor of the tower – that he probably had other security measures up, just in case.

Or maybe he just didn’t want the footage of all the couples making out on the observation deck. Prism Tower was popular for that, too.

She’s early. She’d made sure of it, mostly because Marinette has been known to skip entire events because of how late she’s arrived. Today, she can’t afford to be late.

She stares out at the glittering lights of the city. The city seems quieter than usual, today, and something in Marinette’s gut tells her that there won’t be another attack today. She’s glad for it. She’d like to talk to the guy – her _partner,_ the news channels are calling him – without interruptions.

Marinette hums absently, squinting down at Lumiose. If she squints, she thinks she can spot Alya’s house, and even her family’s bakery. She can see police cars patrolling North and South Boulevard, with individual policemen with their Growlithe hanging around each Plaza. There aren’t enough men on the force, she knows, to check out each and every alley – Lumiose has hundreds – but the Plazas are all interconnected, and so she thinks it’s a good place to start.

“Hey,” comes a voice; Marinette, quite forgetting what she’s here for, spins around to see Chat Noir sliding off his Honchkrow, his hands in the air in a playful surrender.

“I come in peace,” he smirks.

Marinette tries for a smile. “Sorry. Guess I’m still a little on edge.”

“Understandable.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He’s clothed all in black, just like yesterday – he’s really taking the _Noir_ part of his name seriously, she notes with some amusement - but she notices a tiny green pawprint on the front of his hoodie. That’s new. He’s wearing a mask, too, which is just fine by her.

A moment passes with them just staring at each other, and Marinette can’t help but notice the man’s perfect body proportions – broad shoulders, long legs. For the first time in a while, she feels an urge to sketch out some ideas for something other than a pretty dress. A suit, maybe.

He clears his throat, looking away, the bits of his cheeks she can see under the mask a light shade of pink. Marinette snaps herself out of it, reminds herself that while she’s gazing at him purely from an artists’ perspective, she’s looking an awful lot like she’s checking him out.

“Uh, so. I wanted to meet you here so we could…figure shit out,” she starts off, professionally. “So. Yeah. I’m Ladybug.”

He grins, and maybe it’s because of his name that she’s suddenly seeing how everything he does is so feline. He walks forward gracefully, like a model on the runway. Marinette’s throat is suddenly _very_ dry.

He shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Chat Noir. I hope we can work well together.” His eyes flicker down to her still-stained hoodie. “Did you redo your spots, Ladybug?”

“No,” she says, a little sullenly. “Inkay’s stains are pretty much permanent. Trust me, if I’d done these, they’d look way prettier.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You sound like you know your clothes. _And_ your Pokémon.”

She bites her lip, unable to believe that she’d given away such a large part of herself to a total stranger. It’s too late to deny it, though. “Yeah, I guess.”

He chuckles. “I guess I’m the same, then.”

She stares at the floor. “So.”

“So,” he echoes. Then – “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Uh,” she mumbles, “sure?”

“Yesterday, when you were being chased,” he begins, and Marinette cringes at the memory of crashing into him, “you only took the inner routes. Why didn’t you take the main road? The police could’ve found us much more easily, then.”

“There were still people hanging around the main plazas,” she defends. “Giving the Skuntank more room to wreak havoc seemed like a bad idea; I mean, their attention was all on me, but nothing could’ve stopped them from attacking other harmless civilians.”

He gazes at her; feeling self-conscious, she focuses on her shoes.

“That was pretty brave of you,” he says finally.

Surprised, she manages a “Thank you.”

He walks to the side of the building facing Jaune Plaza. “It kind of feels like it didn’t happen.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I feel like I’m living a double life.”

“The masks kind of amplify the feeling.” He taps it. “Why do you wear yours?”

She considers it. “First I wore it so that the girl in brown wouldn’t have a chance to recognize me, but yesterday I wore it so the police wouldn’t recognize me; I don’t think I’d have let go easily if I’d been caught for breaking curfew.” She looks sideways at him. “And you?”

He looks sad and vulnerable, all of a sudden. His green eyes look downcast. “I _can’t_ take off the mask. I just. I can’t.”

He looks so depressed that she can’t help reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “It’s okay. I get it. The masks stay on. Next time we have a run-in with the police, we should tell them that.”

“Yeah.” He looks relieved. “Yeah, that would be great, thanks.”

They both gaze at the city in silence.

“Why are you doing this?” Chat asks, after about five minutes of a surprisingly comfortable silence. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

She leans against the railing. “Well, one of my friend’s Pokémon was stolen. I guess that’s what started it all. But now…I kind of want to make sure nobody’s Pokémon gets stolen, ever. They’re our partners. Losing them is like losing a limb…I can’t even imagine it.”

“That’s very noble of you,” he says, in a kind of bitter voice. “I’m pretty shitty in comparison: I kind of started this whole thing just to get out of the house. Because I was bored.”

“I mean.” She shrugs. “You helped me, anyway. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

It’s the truth, but Chat looks at her with starry eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He looks back at the sky. “I do want to help people, though. Make the best kind of difference.”

“That seems just about a good reason as any,” she says quietly.

He holds her gaze. “That first day when I saw you leaving on your Altaria, I was pretty disappointed to not have found anything.” He tilts his head, then. “That _was_ you, right?”

“Yeah,” she confirms. “I lured one of the thieves to an alleyway and then fought them off. She wasn’t too happy about it.”

“Smart.” Chat sounds impressed. “I don’t suppose it’ll work again, though.”

“I doubt it.”

She sighs. “There’s been no real pattern to their attacks. I got lucky yesterday, I kind of built up on the hunch that since they’d failed in getting my Pokémon the day before, they’d try again the next day.” She shrugs. “I was right.”

_“They?”_ he asks. “How many of them are there?”

“I’ve run into two.” Marinette remembers the cold, creepy man who’s stolen Fennekin. “The man in purple, and the girl in brown. There’s another one, too, a woman all in blue, wearing some kind of cape. I haven’t even caught a glimpse of her. And if there are more…”

“We’re already outnumbered,” he says.

“Let’s hope there aren’t any more, then,” she murmurs.

“So, here’s what we know,” he says. “These people are going only for people’s pokéballs – they’re attacking people who come out of clubs, people who are drunk – they’re attacking randomly – there’s no pattern as to where they’re going to turn up next. That all?”

“They Teleport away like cowards,” Marinette says harshly. Chat laughs, green eyes glinting, and Marinette can’t help but notice how nice he looks when he’s like that.

“So you’ve faced the brown-eyed girl twice, and beaten her both times,” he says. “That’s pretty freakin’ cool, Ladybug.”

She tries to shove down the pride. “Well, last time I ended up running for my life, so I wouldn’t count that as winning. Besides, you’re the one who got rid of her Skuntank.”

“You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

“Hey, I said thanks already!”

He grins. “So, how’d you beat her the first time?”

“She had a Mightyena, and I was lucky to have taught my Roselia Dazzling Gleam,” Marinette says. “So we know she has a Mightyena, a Skuntank, and a Claydol – that’s what she used to get away the first time. The dude in purple has a Venomoth. Other than that, we know nothing.”

“Do they keep records of Trainers these days?” Chat asks, clearly grasping at straws.

“Only if they challenge the League, and I doubt any of them would’ve. Plus, the record is only of the team the Trainer is using at the time of the challenge,” Marinette rattles off easily. “So even if there’s a record of them, they could’ve just caught a whole new team and been on their way.” She pauses. “I guess we could check Trainer IDs, but again, you get a Trainer ID only if you challenge a Gym. And it would be impossible to do a check on every girl with brown hair and green eyes – she could have dyed her hair, or be wearing contact lenses -” Another thought strikes her – “and if they’re from another region, we’re _fucked.”_

He blinks at her. “That’s…a lot of information.”

“I only know because I went through this shit myself,” she says. “Being a Trainer isn’t as glamorous as it’s made out to be sometimes. It also involves standing in a long queue outside the local Pokémon Centre, filling out forms, and finally getting your Trainer ID, only to find that you look fucking grotesque in your picture.”

He laughs loudly “Seems like a lot of trouble.”

She crosses her arms. “All Trainers have to do it. Challenges to Gyms are considered null and void otherwise.”

“So that’s a dead-end,” he says, frowning.

“Maybe, instead of trying to unmask them, we should just try to find them,” she says. “Find out how they choose their victims, and then maybe we can predict where they’ll attack next.”

“And we know for certain they’ve attacked outside clubs, they’ve done it before,” Chat completes, brightening. “We’ve been thinking the attacks were random, but maybe they’re _in_ the clubs, maybe they choose their victims there!”

“My friend and I were pretty drunk the day her Pokémon got stolen,” Marinette recalls. “It makes sense.”

“So,” he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet, way too excited for someone on the hunt for a group of dangerous criminals. “So that’s where we start, then!”

They grin at each other; Marinette’s impressed at how quickly he’d caught on. She’s kind of astonished at how easily the conversation had flowed, to be honest. Marinette’s an awkward person by nature, and it takes her a little time to open up to people – the exception had been Alya, who’d put her at ease with her effervescent personality. The fact that it’s so easy to talk to Chat, who she’s known for about two seconds – it’s interesting.

“I know the bartender in _Le Petit Papillon_,” she says thoughtfully. “I can ask him to alert me he notices something is off.”

“Good idea,” Chat says. “We should tell all the bartenders and security at each club to do the same.”

“I’ll take _Papillon_, _Dark Owl_, and _Dark Cupid_,” Marinette offers.

“I’ll take _Miraculer_ and _Robostus_, then. Although I doubt _Robostus_ needs any protection.”

“You sure? They’re pretty high-end.”

Chat flushes. “I have…an influential friend. She can probably help me get things done.”

“Good for you,” she says, impressed. “I probably have to go down there and beg.”

He grins. “Text me if you need any help. Which reminds me…” He fishes out his phone and stares at it. “How do we contact each other if we need help, or something?”

She curses. She hadn’t thought about that. “No clue. Any ideas?”

“A second phone?”

“I have one,” she admits. “It’ll have to do.”

He holds out the phone he’s holding. “This is my extra phone. You can just, uh, put your other number in it –”

She takes the phone. His background is a picture of an Alolan Meowth, which she doesn’t comment on, instead entering her number quickly and saving her contact as LB. He smirks at the name.

“Okay,” he says. “This has been…good, but I’m fucking sleepy. If that’s all, then-”

“No, no, same.” Marinette checks her own phone; it’s nearly one-thirty, and she has to be up early, as usual. She loves working at the bakery, but it can be a damn chore to wake up in the morning.

“I’ll update you about the clubs tomorrow,” he says. “We can text each other about our next meeting, or patrol, or whatever, then, too.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she says.

He grins. “Cool.” He shakes her hand again, but this time it’s very much just for fun: he’s shaking it way too hard, to the point where they’re bouncing on the spot. She giggles; he looks pleased as he releases her at last.

She releases Altaria; he releases Honchkrow. “Good meeting you for real, Ladybug,” he says. “And sorry for making you fall over yesterday. I was pretty sore when I got back home; you must’ve gotten the worst of it. _Not_ how I like to make a first impression.”

“I’m kind of glad you did,” she blurts out, without thinking. At once, she regrets her words: she sounds so stupid, so shallow, ugh - but the pure, honest look of delight on Chat’s face makes up for it.

“Likewise,” he says brightly. “Bye, Ladybug!”

“Bye,” she calls, and Altaria takes her cue to Fly back in the direction of home. She looks back, on an impulse, but Honchkrow’s disappeared.

Marinette thinks over their meeting, at how well they’d communicated, the way he’d smiled at her, the feeling of his hand in hers. Something warm blooms in her chest and spreads all the way to her fingertips.

She tells herself the flush on her cheeks is from the cold.

* * *

Nino’s a lot more concerned for Alya than he’s letting on.

The girl is _crazy._ Absolutely nuts. There’s no doubt about it. In all his life – and he’d spent a good portion as a Trainer, which meant he’d had a few harrowing experiences of his own – he’d never met someone with such a penchant for danger.

In the few weeks since the attempted had been made to steal Chris’ Pokémon, Ladybug and Chat Noir have shown up more and more often, and the result was that more thefts had been thwarted than ever before – the exception being the theft of Sabrina Raincomprix’s [Noctowl](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Noctowl_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), which had been a real blow: after all, if the daughter of the Chief of police wasn’t safe, who was?

Nevertheless, ever since, Chat and Ladybug seemed to always show up at the right place at the right time, and they worked well as a team: Nino had to applaud their chemistry as Trainers. Double battles were hard, and it’s always hard to vibe with another Trainer. But, despite a few tiny hiccups at the start, they’re kind of killing it now.

True to their word, they’d given their statement to the police, and Alya had even gotten Ladybug on camera announcing that she and Chat would do whatever it took to protect the city from harm. The clip had gone viral in about five seconds, turning Alya into something of a local celebrity.

Alya’s boss at the Lumiose Press had Alya doing all kinds of extra research on the case – getting statements from the police, doing recon work at the sites of battle. You’d think that would tire her out, but no, Alya was ready with her camera in hand every night, ready to trail Ladybug and Chat Noir again.

And, of course, she’d dragged Nino along for the ride, too.

It’s harder work than he thought it’d be. On nights when he doesn’t have a show, Nino becomes Alya’s unofficial camera man, recording Ladybug and Chat Noir jumping from rooftop to rooftop, and then filming Alya’s excited reaction as she analyses their every step. She’s never bored by them, even on nights when there are no attacks, and it’s just the two heroes circling the city. Nino has to appreciate her spirit.

He has to admit, though, that it’s exciting to have something like this to do. Nino’s always put his entire self into his music, so much so that he’s never really had time to do much else. Helping Alya track the heroes of the city…well, it’s something.

All that running is keeping him fit, too, which can’t be a bad thing.

Trailing Ladybug and Chat Noir for about two and a half weeks have given him a healthy sense of respect for the two. They always show up without fail every single day, circle the city diligently – sometimes alone, sometimes together – and they always try to give Alya something to work with, even on the slower nights. Ladybug in particular always speaks kindly and always makes it a point to talk to Alya first, even though there are almost always other reporters from different networks around after a fight.

The people of Lumiose kind of worship them, at this point. Nino sees kids wearing t-shirts with the green pawprint – Chat’s signature – on it, Ladybug-style red-and-black hoodies being sold in stores. There’s even talk of erecting a statue of the two in Centrico Plaza. If that doesn’t make them practically royalty, Nino doesn’t know what else will.

The downside to all this, though, is that he’s had lesser time to hang out with Adrien. It sucks, but Adrien’s been travelling a lot for shoots recently, and when they do get the chance to hang out, the other always looks sleepy enough to drop dead.

Nino’d never admit it to his face, but he misses Adrien a lot. He thinks Adrien would enjoy accompanying Nino and Alya for one of their trysts around the city. It would probably get his mind off all the modelling, and Alya and Adrien would get along swimmingly, too: they’re both cut from the same cloth, all sarcasm and smirks and dry humour.

Nino doesn’t have a gig lined up tonight, so of course that means he’s currently running behind Alya, trying not to pant too obviously, as they follow the sounds of battle from up ahead. That’s another thing about this job: Nino now knows Lumiose City far better than before. He reckons he could even navigate through the city in his sleep, now.

Alya’s bouncing like a [Buneary](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Buneary_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)). “We’re close,” she trills, “get ready, Nino.”

Nino wheezes in response.

Luckily for him, they reach the clearing where Ladybug and Chat Noir are facing off against – oh. _Oh._

“Oh my god,” Alya whispers, gesturing for Nino to come closer and film the opponent. They both are crouching behind the nearest ledge, which given Nino an excellent angle to shoot the fight. “It’s the Big Bad.”

The Big Bad, as Alya’s called him, is the man in purple, the one with the cane. The one who’d stolen Fennekin, she doesn’t say. The subject is still sore for her. She’s always optimistic about finding her Pokémon, but Nino wouldn’t be surprised if she was hiding more anxiety than she was letting on. It’s one of the reasons he’s worried about her.

Nino zooms in on him. His face is grim; he’s wearing some kind of headgear, like a swimming cap, that covers even his hair. He’s got a kind of dangerous aura about him that makes even Ladybug and Chat Noir appear like amateurs in front of them, even though Nino _knows_ they’re not. Ladybug is very obviously the better of the two, but Chat Noir’s been improving in leaps and bounds, and he plays an excellent supporting role in battle.

Big Bad is sneering. There’s a Venomoth in front of him, buzzing loudly. Nino hates the noise: it feels like it’s interfering with his thinking. Ladybug and Chat Noir seem to be similarly affected, and the effect seems to be passing on to their [Blaziken](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Blaziken_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) and [Sableye](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Sableye_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), who are shifting restlessly.

“He hasn’t been seen since…” Alya can’t finish. She looks at Nino with wide eyes. “Why is he here now?”

Nino shakes his head wordlessly.

Unfortunately, the man in purple seems to have heard them. His eyes fix on Nino, who ducks behind the wall at once.

He says something that Nino can’t quite catch, but he certainly does hear Chat Noir screaming “Get _back!”_ and on instinct, he moves: he throws the camera away, grabs Alya by the waist and flings himself away from the ledge just as the impact of- of whatever attack the man’s Venomoth has aimed at them hits the very wall Nino had been leaning on mere seconds later.

Horrified, and now totally out in the open and unprotected, Nino stares in shock as the ledge _melts_ from the impact of the Sludge Bomb. Alya’s hands cover her mouth. If Nino hadn’t moved in time, they would’ve both been ash on the ground. Nino shudders to think about it.

Chat Noir is in front of them at once: his Sableye has conjured a luminous green shield that’s protecting them from the Bug Buzz that Venomoth’s got going on.

“Look, I really appreciate you guys, and your dedication, and all that,” he says harshly – Alya flinches at his tone – “but you’ve _got_ to stay safe. We’re trying to protect you guys; it won’t do any good if you keep throwing yourselves in harm’s way!”

Nino winces. He’s got a point, and, despite the hardness of his voice, is expression is pained, like he really does care about them. He nods. Chat helps him up, and together they lift Alya, who kind of seems in shock.

Chat helps them to a nearby pillar, which is close enough to still see the battle, but far enough for them to be able to run, should they have to. Chat gives Alya a worried look, and then says, almost pleading, “_Please_ stay out of the way,” before running back into the battle.

His Sableye has managed to successfully Will-O-Wisp the Venomoth. Chat commands Sableye to unleash a Power Gem, but before the attack can even hit, the Venomoth is hit square in the face with a roaring Blaze Kick from Ladybug’s Blaziken. Nino stares. He’s never seen her use it before, and Ladybug –

Ladybug looks _pissed_. She’s got the most murderous expression on her face as she moves in sync with Blaziken, most of the time not even calling out attacks, and yet her Pokémon responds to every flick of her wrist, every tilt of her head. Chat follows her lead flawlessly, his Sableye Protecting both Pokémon at just the right moments, occasionally cutting across Venomoth’s path with a well-timed Power Gem. Ladybug, though, is another story, the picture of stony rage as her Blaziken rips through the air again and again. She doesn’t seem to care if she misses an attack, which is unlike her, but today the battlefield is covered in little fires from wasted attempts.

It’s downright terrifying, mostly because Ladybug’s always seemed the calmer of the two. Today, though, she seems to have snapped: as her Blaziken misses another Flare Blitz – she yells, “You coward! You _fucking coward!”_

The man in purple is sneering at her, and with a start, Nino realizes his Venomoth’s barely thrown out any attacks, instead dodging most of Blaziken’s hits effortlessly. He’s not even _trying,_ the bastard. Nino feels his fists clench.

“You’re making quite the effort, today. Is it because I attacked your little friends?” the man hums in an undertone. “Attacking quite recklessly, too, Ladybug, not your usual style. Oh, yes, I know,” he continues, seeing Ladybug flinch, “I’ve been watching you both. You’re quite predictable after a couple of nights’ watch.”

Alya’s stiffened next to him. “What the hell?” she whispers.

Nino’s stomach is sinking with dread. The man couldn’t possibly have suggested what Nino thinks he is – it’s like…it’s like the other fights, all the other times Ladybug and Chat had saved the city, they’d all been just for show, just for the man to study them more, study their moves, their Pokémon, their teamwork. Talk about a low blow.

“I don’t give a _single_ fuck, you sicko,” Ladybug spits. “You’ve terrorized this peaceful city, you attack _bystanders_, you’ve stolen people’s Pokémon, and I’m not stopping till you give – them – _back!”_

Her hand slices the air: Blaziken rushes forward, its entire body engulfed in flame. Venomoth manages to dodge at the last second, but it’s going slower – maybe thanks to the burn Sableye had inflicted, and the edge of its wings looks a little singed.

“I’m conducting some…special research,” says the man, with an awful grin. “As for terrorizing the city, well, maybe the people of Kalos will know to never cross Hawkmoth again.”

_Hawkmoth,_ Nino mouths at Alya, who nods, mute.

Hawkmoth snaps his fingers together. Venomoth flies to his side at once.

“Hopefully you’ll put up a better fight next time,” he says. Ladybug and Chat Noir seem to realize what this means a moment too late – Blaziken and Sableye leap forward at the same second Hawkmoth and his Venomoth vanish, and their attacks miss their mark. Ladybug screams in frustration, making a move as though to run and punch something, and Chat Noir holds her back, arms circling her back and speaking in a hushed tone. Nino almost turns away, feeling as though he’s spying on something far too intimate for him to understand.

Over Chat’s shoulder, Ladybug spots Nino and Alya. She slowly wiggles free from Chat’s hold and walks to them, and Nino’s rooted to the spot, Alya quivering slightly next to him. Ladybug opens her mouth to speak, and Nino readies himself for the worse – she’s probably going to shout at them for getting in the way and putting their lives at risk. It’s what they deserve, to be honest.

Instead, she takes a slow, shaky breath, whimpers, “Please don’t do that again,” and throws herself into Alya’s arms.

Nino’s jaw drops. Ladybug – fierce, strong, smiling Ladybug, is shaking like a leaf in Alya’s arms, who looks just about as gobsmacked as Nino feels. Even Chat looks surprised under the mask, although he lets out a sigh and begins to smile. He lets out another Pokémon – a Frogadier that takes one look at the steaming battlefield and aims a Water Pulse at the area, putting out the fires.

Alya’s arms slowly lift to pat Ladybug’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she says.

After what feels like an eternity, Ladybug pulls back. Her hood’s nearly come loose, and strands of dark hair fall over her face. She fixes Alya and Nino with a teary-eyed, furious look. “Please don’t ever make me worry like that again,” she repeats.

“We won’t. Promise,” Nino says, because Alya seems incapable of speaking at the moment. Nino supposes that if his idol – Jagged Stone, not that anyone’s asking - had hugged him, he’d be in a similar state.

Chat gently tugs Ladybug away. “M’Lady, let’s give them some air. They just had a shock too, y’know.”

“I’m dropping you home.” Ladybug’s gaze is fixed firmly on Alya. “Chat, you drop Nino. No arguments.”

“Uh, okay,” says Chat.

Ladybug withdraws Blaziken and sends out an Altaria – another Pokémon he’s never seen her use before – and Alya lets out a tiny gasp. Nino doesn’t blame her: the thing is_ huge_. Altaria gazes at him, narrow-eyed, ruffling its feathers. Chat pets it on the beak before releasing a Honchkrow and beckoning to Nino.

Nino squeezes Alya’s arm. “Will you be okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she whispers, gazing up at the Altaria with something like wonder.

Nino follows Chat, who clambers onto Honchkrow with ease. Honchkrow is large enough to accommodate Nino, although it lets out a little caw of protest when he gets on.

“Take care, you two,” Chat says to the two girls as they take off. Ladybug nods.

Nino waves until they’re too high up to be seen. Alya doesn’t even look, doesn’t even move.

Honchkow’s actually kind of comfortable to sit on. Nino’s never Flown before, but he really likes it.

He thinks about what he’d just witnessed. Every action replay in his mind come off as more and more bizarre. He finally breaks the silence, unable to stand it anymore. “What the fuck just happened?”

Chat lets out a low chuckle, giving him a sideways look. “I have no idea, man.”

* * *

So Marinette is Ladybug.

Alya stares at a picture from Marinette’s profile on social media, then compares it to an image of Ladybug she’d snapped a week or so prior. She sighs and leans back in her chair, looking up at the ceiling.

She’s been so freaking blind.

Again, she wonders how she’d allowed the details – the gaping, _obvious_ similarities between the two – to escape her for so long. Despite the fact that Ladybug had always kept her hood up – the hair, Alya agrees, would’ve been a dead giveaway – she still looks too much like Marinette in a hoodie and mask now that Alya’s figured it out. Ladybug’s long legs? Marinette’s. Her blue eyes? Marinette’s. Heck, Alya’s willing to bet that she could go to Marinette’s house right now and find Ladybug’s mask hidden somewhere in her room.

Being a reporter, Alya’s pretty observant, and she’s sure that, given time, she would’ve figured out Ladybug’s identity eventually. The only reason she’d managed to put two and two together so quickly, though, was because of the way Ladybug had hugged her after the battle.

Now, Marinette is her best friend. She has been for the past six years. And Alya’s hugged her about a trillion times – when Marinette’s been sad, when Alya’s been sad, after a fight, in celebration of Alya’s first job, when they’re drunk – you name it. Alya knows a lot of things, but she knows for sure, with a hundred percent certainty, what hugging her best friend feels like.

Hugging Ladybug had felt the _exact_ same way.

And the Altaria had merely confirmed her suspicions. She’s seen Marinette’s Altaria a hundred times and had identified it at once. Besides, Altaria had been wary of Nino, but it had treated Alya almost gently – of course it had, Alya’s flown on it a bunch of times before, has fed it poffins from Marinette’s bakery.

“I’m swamped at the bakery, and I’ve got three new outfit commissions to complete,” Marinette had groaned when Alya had first invited her to join her and Nino on patrol. She lets out a snort. What a liar.

Alya’s called in sick at work, which she thinks she kind of deserves. She’s still a little shaken from last night: the fight with Hawkmoth – _Hawkmoth!_ He has a name now – had really given her a reality check. She really was kind of powerless, wasn’t she. None of her smarts or her reporting skills would come in handy on a battlefield. If it hadn’t been for Nino, she’d probably be in the Pokémon Center right now.

Ladybug – Marinette - had told her as much the night before. She’d said, in a small voice, avoiding eye contact, that she understood how important filming the story was to her, but it wasn’t worth her life.

Alya knows that know.

Sighing, she stretches, gathering up the remains of her camera in a box and texting Kim to come pick it up whenever. The camera is useless now: she’ll have to throw it away, but the footage should be useful. Nino had texted her saying Chat Noir planned to give the police his statement later in the day, so whatever portion of the battle her camera had captured might prove to be worth watching.

As she waits for Kim to show up, her mind drifts to Marinette once again. To the way her friend had battled, her eyes like steel and her movements stiff, a far cry from her previous fights. Alya’s never seen Marinette really, truly angry, and the sight had given her chills.

She hadn’t known Marinette owned a Roselia or a Blaziken – either she’d never asked, or Marinette had simply avoided the topic. Alya feels a pang of guilt at this realization, suddenly feeling like she doesn’t know her friend at all.

Kim shows up in half an hour with Ondine. He takes the box with her battered camera, then asks if she’s okay.

“Chat Noir said you and Nino got caught up in the crossfire,” Kim says, a little angrily. “I’ve always told you that you’ve got to stay a good distance away.”

“I know,” Alya says. “Don’t worry, Kim. I’ve learned my lesson.”

He frowns. “I’m sorry, but I had to say it. It would suck if Lumiose’s best reporter went down to some creepy guy’s Bug, wouldn’t it?”

She smiles as Ondine hisses, “Don’t be so _insensitive_,” and hits him in the gut. Kim doubles over. Ondine says, “What he means is that we’re glad you’re safe, Alya.”

“I’m glad, too.”

They leave. Alya stares after them, and then calls, “Did Ladybug come down to the station, too?”

“No,” Kim responds. “Just Chat Noir.”

“Okay, thanks!” Alya says, waving goodbye.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, she grabs her keys and books a Lumi Cab to Santalune before she can chicken out of it. Marinette not coming down to the station meant she was probably busy at the bakery – for Arceus’ sake, between her day job and her night life, was that girl getting any sleep at all these days?

_Boulangerie Patisserie,_ Santalune Branch, is bustling with people when Alya arrives. Well, at least Marinette hadn’t been lying about that part, Alya thinks, amused, as she walks inside. Manon – Nadja Chamak’s daughter – waves at her when she walks in, then points towards the kitchens, where Marinette must be.

Alya lets herself in, and sure enough, there is Marinette, in the middle of piping some kind of filling into a batch of macarons. She hasn’t noticed her walk in, yet, so Alya takes the time to look at her. There are dark circles under her eyes and she’s moving a little sluggishly. Man, she can’t believe she’d let her friend bear this burden for so long, and –

Oh. _Oh._ She remembers Marinette’s fury, the way she’d called Hawkmoth a coward, stressing on the fact that he’d stolen people’s Pokémon and that she was going to get them back. She had sounded angry, but also hurt, like she was personally affected by the thefts.

She was doing this for _Alya._

It’s very hard to stay mad at her, now. Alya leans against the wall, smiling almost fondly as Marinette squints at a macaron, her grip tightening on the piping bag. She jumps when she notices Alya, about a minute later.

“Holy hell, Alya, you scared me,” she says, wiping her forehead. “How long have you been standing there?”

She looks shifty, jumpy, and doesn’t meet her eyes for longer than a few seconds. Alya grins. She’d suspected that Marinette hadn’t been in her right mind when she’d used Altaria to drop her home – after all, as Ladybug, she’d been ridiculously meticulous about her secret identity, had never used Altaria in battle, had probably been Teleporting back or even waiting until the crime scene had been cleared to Fly home.

On second thought, of course she had: she’d probably wanted to avoid this very confrontation. After all, Alya had recognized her Pokémon in no time. 

Now, she can handle the situation in one of three ways.

  1. She can blow up at her friend and call her out on her hypocrisy. Alya thinks she has the right. After all, Marinette had been the one to dissuade Alya from going after the criminals directly, yet here she is, gallivanting around Lumiose in a mask, fighting crime like she was born for it. Alya should confront her head-on.  
  

  2. She can gently coax Marinette into admitting the truth. At heart, she’s a gentle person, and her intentions had been good. If Alya hints that she knows Marinette is Ladybug, she might open up to her.  
  

  3. She can pretend like nothing happened. Even though it’ll be hard. The incident is all over the news, but she can play dumb and watch Marinette reacting to tales of her other self.

Well, it’s a good thing Alya’s never been a really delicate person.

“Give it up, Marinette,” she says bluntly.

Marinette laughs nervously. “Give what up?”

“Yourself, you idiot.” Alya walks closer and stage whispers, “I know you’re Ladybug, you idiot. You can stop acting now. You really are a horrible liar; I can’t believe I let you get away with it for this long.”

“I’m not Marinette,” says Marinette. Then – “Shit, fuck. I’m Marinette, I’m not Ladybug, ahahah, how did you even come to that conclusion, Alya, you, you _crazy_ girl –”

“Uh-huh,” says Alya, unimpressed. “So if I go upstairs and look in your messy-ass cupboard –”

“Hey, hey, hey, no need to diss my closet –”

“-I won’t find Ladybug’s red hoodie with Inkay’s marks on it?” she ploughs on. “Because I can do it, Mari. I have your spare key. You can’t even complain, because I’m one of your emergency contacts.”

“You won’t find it. It’s not in my room,” says Marinette, nose in the air, speaking with far too much confidence for a woman who knows she’s been cornered.

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s in the washing machine,” Marinette says in a rush, and she runs to Alya, throwing her arms around her neck. “Al, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry –”

“Girl, you’re an idiot,” Alya says, hugging her back. “You should’ve just told me. You know I’ve got your back.”

“I didn’t want you to lose any more Pokémon,” she cries, still not letting go. “And yesterday, Al, I was so worried, what if he’d actually managed to hurt you?”

“You idiot,” Alya says again. “What about you, huh? You’re putting yourself in danger every day.”

“I thought I could handle it myself,” Marinette says, wiping her tears on Alya’s shoulder, the brat that she is. “I thought – if I – I dunno. I thought I could keep you safe.”

Alya thinks back to all the times Marinette has appeared in front of her, shielding her without Alya even knowing it – all the times she’d warned Alya to get back when the battles were especially fierce. She’d given Alya and the Ladyblog _way_ more attention than any other news network out there, always waving right at Alya’s camera, always making it a point to talk to her first.

“Ah, Mari,” Alya says, feeling her throat close up, “you really have been looking out for me all along, haven’t you.”

Marinette sniffles.

They stay like that, crying softly into each other’s shoulders, until Manon comes to investigate, and, upon seeing the state they’re in, the younger girl promptly kicks them both out of the kitchen.

Marinette’s eyes are red, but she doesn’t let go of Alya’s hand as they both make their way upstairs, to Marinette’s tiny apartment.

“I’m glad you know,” she admits, as they both settle comfortable on her bed. “I knew you’d recognized Altaria, but I honestly don’t care. I’m glad you know, Al, it’s been kind of lonely keeping all this to myself.”

She smiles. Alya smiles back; she’s missed her best friend.

“You don’t seem lonely when you’re with _Chat,”_ Alya can’t help teasing. “You seemed to be getting very cosy with him last night after the battle. Anything else you might wanna confess to, Mari?”

“He was literally _holding me back_, you fiend, I was about one second away from punching the concrete with my bare hands,” Marinette says in disbelief, but her cheeks are flushed. “But still –” and now she grins – “I’m surprised you had time to notice me, especially since it looked like you only had eyes for _Nino_.”

“Shut it,” Alya says at once. They both giggle at each other.

“Wait,” Marinette says. “I’ll show you my mask.” She disappears into the hallway, and Alya quickly takes out her phone.

**[09:16 AM] Alya: **I’m going to help her. Ladybug.

**[09:16 AM] Nino: **????

**[09:17 AM] Alya: **Nvm. I’ll explain later. Buy two masks and meet me at my place around lunchtime.

Marinette re-enters the room, her mask in one hand and her still-damp hoodie in the other. Alya discards her phone, giving all her attention to her friend.

After all, they have a _lot_ to catch up on.

* * *

To say Adrien is running on fumes is an absolute understatement. He’s practically comatose. He’d thought he’d understood what it meant to be exhausted before, but that pales in comparison to what he feels now.

He feels like a zombie. He got barely an hour’s sleep before hauling himself up and over to the police statement to brief the Chief about the fight from the night before. It’s a little lonely without Ladybug, but he’d felt guilty about calling. Ladybug had really seemed liked she was going through some shit during the battle. It hurt to watch.

Ladybug is…_so_ out of his league. Both as a Trainer and as…uh, anything else. She’s far and away the better battler; Adrien thinks that sometimes she’d be much better off without him bumbling along at her side. Every day, he counts himself lucky that she trusts him and trains with him and and calls him her partner. She’s been doing that a lot lately, offhand comments like “Don’t go too far, partner,” and “Miss me, partner?” and, on one hilarious occasion, “Howdy, partner.”

He likes the way it sounds. He just likes Ladybug, really. She’s kind of the best. He doesn’t deserve her.

Is he crushing on her? Of course he is. He’ll admit it to anyone, unabashedly so. He’s a Ladybug fanatic; he saves all the pictures from the Ladyblog on his phone. Nino thinks he’s crazy, and uh, yeah he is. Crazy in _love_, bitch.

They flirt a lot. Ladybug ends up laughing at him a lot of the time, like she doesn’t get that he’s being serious. Which is okay. He can deal with that. He likes it when she smiles.

They’ve gotten close over the month of patrolling. She teaches him to battle, shows him how to read his opponent. Most of Pokémon battling is understanding your own Pokémon, understanding the Pokémon you’re battling against, and understanding your opponent, she says. That would explain the two minutes of honorary trash talk before pretty much every battle he’s ever seen. It’s not about showing off or bragging, it’s about getting underneath your foe’s skin.

Sometimes, when there’s no attack, they lie down on a random rooftop after patrol and talk through the night. Adrien makes imaginary constellations – “Look, Ladybug, there’s Ursaring Major-” while Ladybug just…closes her eyes and laughs at him.

He likes those nights the best.

He’s worried about her: her last text had been a one-word confirmation that she’d gotten home safe, but that was all. He would’ve liked to go see her, but he didn’t know where she lived.

That part is becoming frustrating, to be honest.

In the beginning, he’d been glad to keep his mask on. It would be less complicated that way, he’d thought, if she knew him as just some guy who came to fight the bad guys with her. But now he feels like he really knows her and he’s pining _hard. _He wants to know her outside the mask, to see what she does in the daytime. It’s pathetic, but he knows his feeling for her would never change. He loves this girl. It doesn’t matter if she’s wearing a mask or not.

Groaning, Adrien rolls over in his bed, almost hitting Plagg, who darts out of the way, hissing. Sableye is scaling his bookshelf, tittering every once in a while. Umbreon is sunbathing on his windowsill.

Adrien groans. “Sableye, don’t tip my entire bookcase, Sir [Slaking](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Slaking_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) will be up here in two seconds.” Sir Slaking was Adrien’s secret nickname for his bodyguard, who bore a strong resemblance to said Pokémon. Sableye merely makes the clicking noise again.

Someone’s knocking at the door. It couldn’t be Nathalie…could it? He doesn’t have any schedules today.

“Sableye, get the door, please,” Adrien yawns. Sableye jumps, nearly tipping the bookcase over – Adrien’s forced to leap up to steady it – and shuffles to the door. Adrien has to bite back a groan when Chloe steps through, giving Sableye the stink-eye. She’s never liked Dark-Types, with the exception of Plagg, who they’d both taken care of as children. When Adrien had found Sableye in an old farmhouse where he’d been scheduled to have his next shoot, abandoned by its original Trainer, Adrien had taken pity on the poor thing and taken it home. He’d intended to release it after it gained some strength, but it had ended up wanting to stay and throwing a ginormous tantrum when Adrien had attempted to release it. It meant yet another secret Pokémon to hide from Nathalie, but he didn’t really care: he had grown to love and even appreciate its mischievous nature.

Chloe, though, had hated Sableye ever since it’d taken a liking to her earrings and had tried to snatch it right off of her ears. Adrien had found it hilarious, but Chloe had never forgotten the incident.

He loves her, he really does, but he really doesn’t have the energy to talk right now.

Chloe stops in front of him. “You look horrible.”

He lies back down. “Thanks, Chlo.”

“No, I mean, you still look better than ninety-nine percent of the Kalosian population,” she says, sitting down next to him and petting Plagg’s head. “It’s just not like you to look so…unkempt.”

“I don’t have a shoot today, cut me some slack.”

She hums. “Just saying. You’re in desperate need of some concealer.”

It’s silent for a while. It’s kind of surprising to see Chloe so quiet. To break the silence, he looks over at Chloe instead. “Is that…a Ladybug hoodie?”

She smiles. Adrien is flabbergasted. He’s never known Chloe to wear anything other than designer. But here she is, in a Ladybug hoodie, complete with fake spots. It must be the cheapest thing she owns. Her _hairclip _– shaped like a Beedrill - must cost more.

“Should I ask why?” he attempts.

Chloe looks at him like he’s crazy. “Because Ladybug is _awesome_, that’s why. I mean, I like Chat Noir and all, but he’s no Ladybug. That girl is…”

“Yeah,” he admits, a smile tugging at his lips.

They both sigh dreamily.

Chloe snaps out of her daze first, and taps a long fake nail on his forehead. “Anyway, Adrikins, I wanted to ask you if you’re coming for Nino’s gig tonight at _Miraculer_. Don’t get me wrong –” she says at once in response to Adrien’s raised eyebrow – “I still loathe your boy, but DJ Bubbler is far more tolerable, especially when you’re around.”

“Uh.” He has patrol tonight. He wants to make sure Ladybug’s doing okay. “I’ll try to drop by, Chlo. But don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yay!” She claps her hands together. “I’ll see you there.”

Standing, throwing one last glare at Sableye, who is eyeing her handbag with interest, she blows Adrien a kiss and stalks out, heels click-clacking against the floor. Adrien falls asleep even before she’s reached the door.

Adrien wakes to Umbreon whining into his ear.

He sits up too fast, and his head ends up spinning. The sky is dark when he looks out the window; the time shows that it’s almost nine at night. Chloe’s called him three times, Nino’s called twice. His last message reads: BRO YOURE ALIVE RIGHT

_I’m alive,_ he texts back.

Yawning widely, Adrien texts Ladybug to let her know he might be a little late for patrol today. He doesn’t really want to make an appearance at _Miraculer_ – being one of Jagged Stone’s hangouts, the place always has too much paparazzi hanging around – but he has to show up for Nino: that’s what a good friend does.

He picks out one of the shirts Chloe had bought for him: that should shut her up. She won’t criticize her own choices, ha. He checks his watch, then decides to pack his hoodie and mask into a backpack and leave it with the bartender. If he’s right, Wayhem should be behind the counter tonight: he’ll keep his stuff safe.

_Miraculer _is buzzing when Adrien arrives: he takes the side entrance, where the security, recognizing him, let him pass through without comment. The entrance brings him to the edge of the bar, where Adrien signals to Wayhem and drops his backpack in a corner.

He finds Chloe – or rather, Chloe finds him – getting a round of shots for her and Sabrina, and she squeals when she spots Adrien (“I knew that shirt would fit you like a dream, Adrikins!”). Adrien greets Sabrina – it’s always been hard for him to face her these days – as Chloe screeches some more about his shirt: he rolls his eyes at her and orders a shot of his own. As Chloe turns to talk to Sabrina again, Adrien asks the bartender, in a low voice, “So, any updates?”

“Nothing more than the usual,” Wayhem frowns, pretending to be mixing his drink. “But I’ll keep you updated, Adrien. I’m always glad to help.”

“Thanks, man.” Adrien accepts his drink with a tilt of his head. Chloe loops an arm through his, dragging him to the front of the crowd, right in front of where Nino’s just setting up. People are already beginning to chant his name, and Nino grins, releasing Wartortle, who flicks a stream of bubbles from its tail.

“Adrien Agreste?” comes a voice to his right, and Adrien turns to find Alya standing there with a drink in her hand, smiling slightly. She’s dressed better than Adrien’s ever seen her, in a short black dress and heels – but then again, he’s used to seeing her on stakeouts, where she’s usually clothed in a black shirt and sweatpants.

Adrien is almost tempted to greet her they way Chat Noir would, with a wink and a “Hey, Miss Reporter,” but just in time he remembers that technically, this is his first time meeting her as Adrien. As _Adrien_, Nino’s best friend, which is probably why she’d approached him in the first place.

“Alya, right?” he says, extracting his arm from Chloe’s grip and shaking her outstretched hand.

“Alya Cesaire?’ Chloe interrupts. “From the Ladyblog?”

“That’s me,” Alya says. She obviously recognizes Chloe, but doesn’t say anything. Chloe looks her up and down, then pronounces to Adrien that she needs to touch up her makeup. She flounces away, Sabrina following.

Adrien shrugs in apology; Alya only smiles in understanding.

“I can’t believe this is the first time I’m meeting you,” Adrien says. “Nino’s been talking about you nonstop.”

“He seems bent on keeping us apart,” Alya says, with a gleam in her eye. “I wonder why.”

“He’s scared,” Adrien says, glancing at Nino, who’s talking to a sound tech. “Scared of how much the power we hold together. I know too many embarrassing stories about him, honestly.”

She laughs. “I’m _so_ in for hearing all of that.” There’s a wicked kind of smile forming on her face. Adrien finds himself mirroring it. She definitely has some kind of magnetic charm to her - he suddenly understands why Nino is so taken by her.

“Uh, would you like to join me – us –” Adrien gestures to where Chloe had been. Alya hesitates.

“Maybe in a while,” she says, “I’m waiting on a friend.”

“That’s cool,” Adrien says. “See you later.”

“See you. Nice meeting you, Adrien. We _need_ to exchange stories over coffee sometime.”

“Heck yeah we do.”

Alya disappears into the crowd, probably looking for her friend. Adrien looks at his phone. Ladybug’s responded with a simple _Sure, let me know when you’re on your way_, and Adrien promises to do just that.

With a wave of his hand, Nino silences the crowd. There’s one, two, three beats of silence, and then a wave of music erupts through the place: there’s an answering screech from the crowd. Nino moves in time to the beat: he’s playing one of his first dance remixes. Adrien remembers getting near-blackout drunk and dancing to this very track all night. Good times.

Chloe appears at his side. Her usual snide expression is replaced by one of grudging respect. Her face turns red and blue and yellow from the flashing lights.

“Come on!” she yells, grabbing his hand, “let’s dance.”

All in all, Adrien has a good time: he feels light and content after a couple of shots, and Nino’s at his best tonight, shouting at everyone to _dance, dance, throw your hands up!_ Wartorle keeps them all entertained, spinning on its own shell and shooting out Bubblebeams above the arms of the writhing crowd, who all jump higher in an attempt to pop the bubbles.

Around midnight is when Adrien feels like he needs to chill. Curfew is right around the corner, anyway, and he needs to meet Ladybug, too.

He opens up his phone, letting Ladybug know he’ll be starting soon. He hugs Chloe goodbye and makes his way to the bar, trying not to get elbowed in the face. Or, ahem, any other sensitive areas.

Alya, he notices with amusement, is pounding back a shot at the counter as Wayhem laughs at her. The bartender offers another glass to another girl next to Alya: Adrien can’t see much of her except that she’s wearing dark jeans, her hair up in a bun. She must’ve been the friend Alya had been waiting for, but enough of that - Adrien waves to Wayhem, picking up his backpack from over the counter, and turns toward the side door.

He doesn’t know why he does it, but he swivels back to gaze at Alya and her friend. He still doesn’t catch a good enough look – the other girl is looking towards the front entrance, her back to him, but as she turns, he catches a flash of the brightest blue.

* * *

Marinette is drunk.

She should _not_ be this drunk. She should be a responsible citizen-slash-protector of the city and get her ass home, stat. She should not be Flying up to Prism Tower – which has kind of become her and Chat’s home base of sorts – on Altaria, who clearly disapproves of this plan.

Chat is already waiting for her when she arrives, leaning against a railing. Marinette takes one step forward and stumbles like the klutz she is, but she manages to right herself, giggling. Chat looks alarmed.

“Are you _drunk?”_ he asks incredulously. Altaria hoots in agreement; she returns it to its pokéball at once.

“Your face is drunk,” she says in response.

Chat lets out a short, surprised laugh. He looks terribly attractive. “I’ve never seen you drunk before. And –” he squints at her face in disbelief – Marinette checks if she’s worn her mask, then sighs in relief when she realizes she has – “Ladybug, are you wearing makeup?”

She doesn’t know why this embarrasses her. “Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me out to _Miraculer_ tonight and insisted I attempt to put some effort into looking nice, for once.”

His eyes widen fractionally, but it’s only for a moment, and Marinette is left wondering if she’d imagined it. He smiles at her, though, holding her steady. “I think you always look nice,” he says, “whether you put in effort or not.” He says this in the most heart-warming, genuine voice, and Marinette kind of crumbles in his arms, feeling as though her entire body is tingling with joy.

“You’re very nice, Chat,” she admits. “I don’t deserve you, okay?”

“You’re _very_ drunk,” he observes.

“Very drunk and very honest,” Marinette agrees.

He huffs out a laugh as he tows her to the side of the building, but he sits them both down against the wall. She sighs and rests her head on his shoulder. He smells nice. Like expensive perfume. She likes it.

“Thank you,” he says amusedly. “My friend got it for me.” Which is when Marinette realizes she’d been thinking out loud. She squeals and covers her face with her hands. Chat laughs again, bright and happy. He slides an arm around her. Marinette’s face is on fire. She knows, she _feels_ how close he is right now. If she turns her face to the left and leaned up a little, they’d be kissing, or at least breathing into each other’s faces unattractively, and the thought excites her more than she wants to admit.

Also – and she may be imagining things – but there’s something electric in the air, and she can’t shake the feeling that she’s on the verge of something big, something life-changing. She holds her breath and waits.

“I just wanted to know how you were doing…after last night,” Chat says quietly, and the moment is lost. Marinette feels disappointed, for some reason. Maybe the tension had been an illusion, all in her head…or maybe he just didn’t like her that way at all. _Ugh._ This is why she doesn’t like being drunk and around a boy she likes. She tends to overthink a lot.

“I’m okay,” she answers honestly. “Hawkmoth just pissed me off, is all. I hate cowards, and I hate liars, and I hate people who are liars and cowards and thieves and act all high-and-mighty, like they’re doing the world a favour.”

“I hope we can see him again, just so you can punch him in the face,” Chat chuckles.

“I’m going to let Blaziken Blaze Kick his face off,” Marinette says, yawning.

Chat laughs. He checks his phone.

“Oh,” she says, kind of disappointed. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

“Just figuring out when I should drop you home,” he says. “You look ready to crash, LB.”

“I can drop myself home.”

“You really can’t. I trust Altaria, but if you fall asleep on its back and lose your grip – well, I don’t want to wake up to news of the police wiping your remains off the pavement –”

She hits him. _“Chat!”_

He’s laughing aloud, rising and hauling her up; she crashes into him and bounces away at once, blushing.

“Thanks, Kitty,” she exhales.

“Kitty?” he asks, an eyebrow raised. Marinette wants to die.

“Uh, ignore me,” she says. “I’m drunk.”

“I kinda like the name,” Chat grins, and yep, Marinette’s _definitely_ going to die tonight.

She wants to stay longer. She wants to talk to him more. She wants to tell him all this, but Chat’s looking away from her, though, looking out into the city with a confused expression.

“Uh, Ladybug…” He points. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

She looks. Chat’s pointing to Rouge Plaza – or, more specifically, a tiny dot of light on top of a building. The light moves back and forth, like the person holding it is waving at them, signalling them. Only an idiot would do it.

Unfortunately, Marinette has a good idea of who this idiot is.

“Fucking hell.”

Chat tilts his head at her. “You wanna check it out?”

“I’ll handle it.” Marinette slaps her cheeks; the pain makes her a little more alert, a little more present.

“Ladybug, _no.”_

“Chat, I’m feeling okay. I’ll just check it out from above. If it’s hostile, I’ll call you.”

He hesitates. “I’ll wait from here. If everything okay, turn off that light.”

“Done.”

She releases Altaria and heads off in the direction of the light: she can only barely make out a tiny figure on the terrace of a building, waving a large flashlight. The waving grows more intense as Marinette gets closer.

She jumps from Altaria’s back when she’s low enough, rolling forward and coming to a halt in front of the person. Altaria stays hovering above them, flapping its enormous wings and clucking.

“Alya,” Marinette says tiredly, as Alya switches off her flashlight, grinning in victory, “what the hell are you doing.”

To her dismay, Alya’s wearing dark leggings, an orange hoodie, and a black mask like Chat’s covers her cheeks. She’s not wearing her glasses, and her hair is tucked neatly into her hood. To a bystander, Marinette thinks, she’d be unrecognisable.

“I’m helping you,” Alya says stubbornly. “I can’t just be a bystander now that I know you’re out there fighting for me. Hawkmoth took _my_ Fennekin, Mari. I don’t want to just film you on the side anymore – I-I want to help you…and this is the only thing I could think of. I know you’re probably thinking I’m just going to get in the way-”

“That’s not it at all, you dumbass,” she groans. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you in the first place, I knew you’d do something reckless like this, I just wanted you _safe._”

Alya deflates, but only a little. “I’m not a kid, Mari. And I’m not something to be protected. I know I don’t have a lot of battling experience, but I’m good enough to at least be of _some_ help to you. I can patrol the city on days when you can’t and call you if I spot something, at the very least. Please.”

Marinette massages her forehead. “I shouldn’t have told you I’d be meeting Chat later tonight.”

Alya smiles, albeit a little hesitantly. “So…you’ll let me join you on patrol?”

“I’ll think about it. Maybe you can join me on patrols, but you’ve got to stay back during battles.” She looks at her friend severely. “Alya…you’ve got to understand that this isn’t a joke. These people are out to at least damage us irreparably, if not kill us, and steal our Pokémon.”

“I know,” Alya says earnestly. “Out of everyone, Mari…I know.”

She looks at the other girl, sees some kind of bitterness in her face, and remembers that while Marinette really, really hates losing, she’s forgotten that Alya is pretty much the same.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she decides. “And…on some days, or weekends, whenever we’re both free…I’ll train you.”

Alya throws her arms around her. “You won’t regret this, Mari!”

“I hate you,” Marinette grumbles. “And I hate how weak I am for you.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” Alya grins.

Marinette signals to Altaria, who swoops down low enough for her to get on. “Go to sleep, Al,” she says. “You’re still drunk.”

“And you’re not?” Alya says, waving. “Why do you think I chose today? You’re always _way_ easier to convince when you’re drunk.”

“Devil spawn,” Marinette yelps, trying and failing to feel any sort of anger.

Alya blows her a kiss as Altaria rises.

“Oh, by the way,” she calls out, “I might bring a friend!”

“What?” Marinette shrieks, but Alya’s already out of earshot, so Marinette flips her off as Altaria flies away.

“Did you hear that?” she stews, once she’s halfway to Lumiose. “Bringing a friend, of all things. Fuckin’ Alya. She’s too smart for her own good.”

She laughs, despite herself. It seems her circle is expanding.

* * *

Nino feels incredibly stupid in his hoodie and mask, walking around in a circle and waving a flashlight at the empty sky.

The hoodie is Alya’s – turquoise and a little tight, but it’ll do. She’s next to him now, wearing an orange hoodie and an identical mask, flailing her own flashlight about like some kind of crazy, light-up windmill.

“No slacking!” Alya orders the moment Nino lets his hand drop.

“My hand hurts,” Nino complains.

“Don’t be a complainer.” Alya flails even more enthusiastically. “This worked last time.”

“And Ladybug said she’d think about it, not, _oh hey, welcome to the team!”_ Nino hisses. “You’re being stupid, Alya –”

“Rena,” she corrects.

“Rena Rouge is a stupid name. What are you, defender of Rouge plaza?”

“It’s a batter name than _Carapace.”_

His cheeks burn. “Reminds me of Wartortle.”

“I know, I know, I was just teasing,” she says. “Wave your flashlight! Show some spirit!”

With effort, he lifts his arm again. “What if they just don’t show up?”

“They will,” says Alya with confidence.

“They have,” says a new voice, and Nino spins around, startled, to find Chat Noir slipping off his Honchkrow, grinning. Nino drops his flashlight. Alya yells, “Don’t damage my stuff, you heathen!”

“Ladybug told me you guys would be around here somewhere, probably doing something stupid to get our attention,” Chat says offhandedly.

“Did she, now,” says Alya, eyes narrowed.

“She wasn’t wrong,” Nino admits.

Chat laughs, holding out a hand for them both to shake. “So, what are you guys calling yourselves?” he asks.

“Rena Rouge,” Alya says.

“Defender of Rouge Plaza?” Chat asks at once. Alya groans, and Nino throws him arms into the air – “That’s what I said!”

“Oh, we’re gonna get along,” says Chat, his eyes glinting, lips tilted into a crooked – yet somehow still attractive – smirk. The gesture stirs something in Nino’s memory, but he can’t figure out why it seems so familiar to him. “And you are?”

“Carapace,” says Nino. “Love the hoodie, dude.” For the tiny pawprint is glowing neon green in the dark.

“I did it myself,” Chat says proudly.

“I should do something to mine, too,” Nino says, tugging on the edge on his own hoodie.

“Gotta stand out,” Alya agrees.

They all pause as Chat’s phone beeps; he checks it and informs them, “Ladybug’ll be here in a minute or two.”

“Meeting with the team leader, nice,” Alya gushes, but Nino kind of feels a little nervous. Chat looks at him, clapping his shoulder in reassurance.

“Don’t worry, man, if she’s letting you guys help us, she must really trust you,” he says bracingly. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m glad for the help. I kind of need a break, man.”

Alya points at the sky before Nino can respond. “She’s here!”

Ladybug’s Altaria descends upon them with astonishing speed; Ladybug drops down and returns Altaria to its pokéball before she’s even landed. Nino claps. Chat Noir says, with a kind of fond amusement, “Show off.”

Ladybug jogs to them, grinning. “Rena Rouge, Carapace, hi!” She seems so upbeat and welcoming compared to the last time he’d seen her, and Nino feels ashamed for having doubts.

She gives them both a hug. Chat says, “You didn’t hug _me_ when we first met.”

Ladybug rolls her eyes. “Chat, you crashed into me and gave us both near-concussions.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Chat grumbles.

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“Piss off.”

Nino stares back and forth between the two like he’s watching a tennis match. He’s only ever seen Ladybug and Chat Noir up close mid-battle or just afterward, and they’d always appeared so serious and businesslike. It had never occurred to him that they would actually be laid-back and fun, insulting each other playfully like any pair of best friends would.

Alya’s eyeing the both of them like she’s _very_ interested in this development. Of course she’d be: of late, a good section of the Ladyblog audience has been wondering rather vocally whether Chat and Ladybug were dating, commenting on their closeness during battle and their flawless teamwork. Nino doesn’t really care, and he doesn’t think it’s his business, but watching them now, he does feel a little smirk coming up. They kind of are super cute together.

“So,” Alya drawls, “what do you guys usually do on nights like these?”

“Well,” Ladybug says, looking away from Chat at last, “We usually split up and cover one half of the city, and then meet at Centrico. Since it’s day one for you guys, we can just do the same thing – Rena, you could come with me, and Carapace can go with Chat –” She glances at Chat for his approval, and Chat nods – “and once you get the hand of it, we can start alternating, or something – I’ll draw up a schedule. That good?”

“Cool,” Nino says, and Alya nods in agreement.

“Try to be as quiet as you can,” Chat advises. “We’ve struck a deal with the police: they patrol both Boulevards and the main Plazas, while we take the alleys connecting the Plazas. If we spot something weird, we engage: if they run, we try to chase them out right into a Plaza, where the police will be waiting.”

“It’s best to watch your back, too,” Ladybug adds.

“Speaking of our backs,” Chat interjects, with some interests, “where’s our resident reporter? The one who runs the Ladyblog?”

Alya stiffens next to him, but Ladybug answers calmly, “I saw her hanging around Vert Plaza as I was Flying in. She was talking to Mylene.” For a brief second, Nino wonders why she’s covering for Alya, before remembering that she must know that Alya’s the one behind Rena’s mask. Again, Nino wonders how Alya had convinced her to let them be a part of their squad.

“Aw, it’s fun when she’s tailing us,” Chat pouts. Nino suppresses a laugh. Alya looks indignant.

“She’s always one step behind.” Ladybug glances at Alya, her smile turning playful. “But what are we waiting for? Last one to Centrico’s a rotten [Exeggcute](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Exeggcute_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\))!” she yells, running to the edge of their rooftop and leaping to the next one, laughing the entire time. Alya shoots him a look of horror before scrambling after her.

“Well,” Chat says, “I guess we should go too, then.” He and Nino set off in the opposite direction.

Despite appearing as the more carefree of the duo, Chat is every thorough, peeking into every alleyway, circling every pillar. Ladybug, he says, likes to use the rooftops to get an aerial view, but he prefers patrolling on the ground. After a while, he lets out his Umbreon, who runs ahead, its eyes glowing.

“Umbreon has better instincts in the dark,” Chat explains patiently. “Patrol can get boring, and I sometimes cut corners, but Umbreon always alerts me if they’re anything weird going on.”

It’s silent for a while as they walk through the streets. It’s past midnight, now, and curfew is well underway, so the city seems unnervingly still.

“Does Ladybug know who you are?” Chat asks suddenly. “Under the mask, I mean.”

“No,” Nino says.

“But she knows Rena, doesn’t she.” Chat sounds like he’s trying to keep his voice blank of any emotion.

“I think so,” Nino replies, a little awkwardly, unsure of how to feel about the bitterness now etched into Chat’s expression. Then he understands – “Wait, so you and Ladybug don’t know –”

“Nope.” Chat pops the ‘p’, shooting him a sideways glance. “I mean, at first I was all for the secrecy, but now I’m beginning to wonder if I’m making a mistake.”

Nino voices what he’s been thinking since their playful interaction on the rooftop. “Are you two, like, a thing?”

“No,” says Chat, in that same detached voice. ‘How could we be, I don’t even know who she really is.”

“You’d like to know, though,” Nino guesses.

“Yeah, man.” Chat admits. “I just…I hope we defeat Hawkmoth soon so that we can ditch these masks and just…be ourselves. Y’know?” There’s something about the way he’s speaking, with a familiar kind of sorrow, that makes Nino’s bro-instinct activate.

“We’ll get him,” Nino promises. “And, for the record, Ladybug was pretty much staring at you all night. I think you should go for it.”

He lets out a short bark of laughter. He looks at Nino, this time with the eyes of a man letting down his walls, just a tiny bit, maybe. “I like you, Carapace. You’re a good dude.”

“You’re a good dude, too,” Carapace echoes, a little surprised, but also pleased.

They grin at each other, and then Chat breaks out into a jog.

“Come on,” he says. “We can’t let the girls beat us.”

* * *

Adrien’s walking home after a shoot one evening when he hears a cry of _“Help!”_

He jumps into action at once; he’s already wearing his hoodie, but he ducks into the alleyway and puts his mask on, and then releases Umbreon, who takes off towards the voice at once. Adrien follows, curiosity piqued. Ever since Hawkmoth had shown himself about two and a half weeks ago, there hadn’t been any attacks at all – in fact, the city had been so quiet that there had even been talks of eliminating the curfew.

So why is there an attack now, when it’s not even night-time?

He stomps around the corner with all the grace of a [Tauros](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Tauros_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), and then blinks. He’s at a dead-end, and leaning against the wall, is a girl in a yellow hoodie and black mask, tapping on her phone without a care in the world.

She hasn’t noticed Adrien, yet, but as he watches, she lifts her phone in the air, and -

_“Help!”_ comes the cry again, but now that he’s seeing it for himself it’s very obvious that she’s only playing a recording of a scream.

Instantly, he’s on guard. Is she a villain, acting as bait to lure either him or Ladybug out here? He studies her: she doesn’t fit the description of any of the thieves so far, but she could be a new recruit.

Umbreon brushes against his leg, and then takes off towards the girl.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, following: but he stops in surprise when he sees that Umbreon is whining and circling her legs, not even attempting to attack. The girl looks up and locks eyes with him.

“Oh,” she says, clearly disappointed. “It’s you.”

“The fuck,” he says, affronted, as Umbreon comes running back to his side.

“I’d hoped for Ladybug,” the girl continues, “but you’ll have to do.” She walks towards him, pocketing her phone. The sleeves of her hoodie have irregular black streaks across them. Adrien sees a wisp of her blonde hair curling on the side of her face, unhidden by her hood.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

The girl’s right in front of him now. She rolls her eyes at his defensive posture. “Calm down, Kitty, I’m not going to attack you.”

He glares at her suspiciously, kind of annoyed that she’s calling him Kitty – that had been Ladybug’s drunken nickname for him: a nickname he held close to his heart.

There is something terribly familiar about this girl, though – the way she walks, the way she uses her hands as she talks, the tone of her voice.

“What do you want, then?” he demands.

She raises her hands in surrender. “I want to join your team.”

“My _what?”_

“Your team. Your super-secret superhero _team.”_ She enunciates each word carefully, like Adrien’s a dumbass, and he bristles.

“Nope, sorry. You can’t,” he says. “Bye.”

He turns around to leave, but she grabs his arm.

“Wait,” she says, sounding a little sincere for the first time. “Look – my friend’s Pokémon got stolen recently. I’m not saying I blame you or Ladybug, or anything…you were battling someone in another part of the city, but that was only a distraction while my friend’s Pokémon was stolen somewhere else. You couldn’t have known. There’s nothing you did wrong. But…I’d like to help you prevent something like that, if it ever happens again. And I thought, well. I’d better try to find one of you two –” she holds up her phone – “now that you’re, uh, _hiring.”_ She smirks at that last part, as though Chat and Ladybug had interviewed Rena and Carapace before allowing them to join their team.

Something else is bothering him about the story, though. Over the past few months, he and Ladybug had stopped a bunch of attempted thefts, but this girl is right: there had been one more victim. The girl had been on her way home from a party when she’d been ambushed and her Noctowl’s pokéball stolen by the lady in blue, all while Ladybug and Chat had been battling the girl in brown, all the way at the other end of the city. It’s been – till date – Ladybug and Chat’s only failure, and Adrien, who knew the girl personally, could hardly talk to her normally out of guilt.

It had become a pretty big deal, mostly because the victim – the girl who’d had her Pokémon taken…she was the daughter of the Chief of Police.

Sabrina.

He gapes at the girl in front of him, now. _“Chloe?”_

She takes a step back as though burned. “What? No. What? I’m not Chloe, I’m, uh…”

“Oh my god.” A grin breaks out on his face. “You _do_ care! You have a heart in there after all, Chlo!”

“I do _not, _you mangy alley cat!_”_ Chloe shrieks, abandoning all pretence and stomping her foot against the ground. “Fucking hell, just let me join your stupid group! It can’t be that hard to get in, I don’t see the rest of Lumiose lining up to risk their lives – but wait –” She stops midsentence to stare at him. “Did you just…call me _Chlo?”_

Oh my god. He’d forgotten about the mask, too. Well. Okay. Time to make his escape.

“Nice talking to you, I’ll tell Ladybug, bye!” he trills, in an embarrassingly high-pitched voice. “Gotta go!”

“Adrien Agreste, you will not take another step or so help me god I will tell Nathalie everything!” Chloe screeches, sounding equally insane. Adrien stops.

There’s silence at they stare at each other. Finally, Adrien says, “Please don’t tell Nathalie.”

Chloe blinks, and then bursts into what he likes to call _creaky door_ laughter, which is basically her doubling over, letting out these squeaky giggles that sound ridiculously similar to a said creaky entrance. He hasn’t seen her laugh like that in a while – in front of others, Chloe is cold and unattainable: she barely smiles, let alone laughs.

Unable to stop himself, he laughs too, and soon they’re both clutching each other, tears leaking out of their eyes, as Umbreon circles them in confusion.

“You fucking loser,” she wheezes, when they’re composed enough to let go. “No _wonder _you’ve looked so tired these days. I thought you’d become a sex addict or something.”

Adrien chokes, which sends her off into a fit of giggles again. “Chloe, what the _fuck!”_

“I never would’ve guessed you were Chat Noir,” she marvels. She thumbs the tiny pawprint on his hoodie. “How’d you do this?”

“Dipped Plagg’s paw in neon green paint and stamped it on,” he admits. Chloe throws her head back and _howls_ with laughter.

“How’d you get the stripes?” he asks, swatting her arm.

“Had it custom made.”

“Of course you did.”

They both grin at each other. Adrien can’t believe how _light_ he feels now that someone knows.

“So,” she says. “I’m joining you on one of your meetings tonight.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Oh, _please,”_ she says. “You can’t stop me. Now that I know who you are, I’ll blow up your phone. I know where you live. I’ll latch onto you like an [Eelektrik](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Eelektrik_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) on a generator.” She pokes his chest. “Mark my words, Adrien Agreste, you will _never_ get rid of me.” She appraises him. “Plus, Nathalie’s not going to be pleased when I tell her you’ve been sneaking out every night.”

“Chloe, that’s blackmail,” Adrien protests weakly.

“Damn right it is.” She crosses her arms. “So?”

Only Chloe would admit to blatant blackmail. He tries, “Well, you’ve never even battled before.”

“Neither had you, before all this,” she points out. “But look at you now.”

“That was all Ladybug.”

“I’m willing to train,” she says. “I used to be good, I can get back at that level if I try. Not like I have anything better to do all day.”

“Chloe...”

“Look, I know what I’m getting into,” she snaps. “and I’m willing to take the risk. Now, are you going to take me to your little gang and introduce me to your lady love or _not?_ Because if you say no, I’ll have to find another way.”

He sighs, then meets her eyes. She gazes back, fierce and challenging, not giving him an inch. This, he remembers, is why he’s always liked Chloe Bourgeois.

“You’d better not embarrass me,” he says.

* * *

Ladybug shows up at Prism Tower to find the place in chaos.

Chat is sitting against the wall, covering his ears. Alya – that is, Rena Rouge - is screaming something and waving her arms, Carapace attempting to calm her down, as another girl, dressed in yellow, smirks at them both.

Ladybug gets off of Altaria. “What the fuck is going on?”

At the sound of her voice, the new girl turns, and, pale blue eyes lighting up, she runs to Ladybug and gives her a hug. “Oh my god, it’s really you! I’ve got to be your _biggest_ fan in the city.”

“Ladybug, who the fuck is this,” Alya demands. “Chat Noir showed up with her without any explanation, and all she’s done since is criticize us.”

Ladybug glances at Chat. “Chat, you said you had a surprise, not a new teammate.”

“I’m the surprise!” beams the newcomer. She steps out of the embrace. “I’m Queen Bee!”

“Chat,” she grits out, _“what.”_

“I was blackmailed into this,” Chat says, looking pained.

“It wasn’t blackmail, you filthy liar!” Queen Bee explodes.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if it was,” Alya mutters. Queen Bee shoots her a filthy look. Carapace looks like he wants to leave. If he does, Marinette is going to leave with him.

“She’s one of us, Ladybug,” Chat tries. He glares at the girl, then continues – “She might have blackmailed me, but her intentions are good.”

Marinette holds his gaze. “You trust her?”

Chat nods. “I do.”

“Okay.” She exhales, then holds out her hand to Queen Bee, who shakes it, looking ecstatic. “Welcome to the group, then, Bee. But –” and she stares around at all of them seriously – “That’s _it_ with the additions, got it? Nobody else calls their friend –” she glares at Alya, who has the decency to look ashamed – “or their family members, or whatever. This is it. No more additions to the group.”

“Got it,” says Chat. The rest all nod.

“Bee, I don’t know how good you are in battle, or anything,” Marinette says, “and I have to admit that another reason I’m letting you join is because now that there are five of us, we can each patrol a fifth of the city, once you’re all up to speed.” She gazes at Queen Bee, who looks a little downcast at her admission.

“But I _am_ glad to have you,” she concludes, trying for an encouraging smile. “All you have to do is prove yourself.”

Queen Bee brightens. “I won’t let you down, Ladybug, I promise!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ladybug spies Chat Noir looking at Bee proudly. She wonders what their connection is.

“Okay. Patrol.” She clasps her hands together. “Rena, you take Jaune Plaza. Carapace, Rouge. Chat, you take Bee with you, since this is her first time, and you and I will cover the alleyways surrounding Vert, Bleu, and Magenta. That good?”

Everyone nods.

“And,” Marinette adds, “Bee, Carapace, Rena – listen up. I have to remind you, again, that this shit is _serious._ The safety of Lumiose, and even Kalos, is at stake here. If you spot something amiss, you call me or Chat – Bee, get a second phone, I’ll add you to the group chat – immediately. We can’t afford to make any more mistakes. Hawkmoth and his gang haven’t attacked in a while, but that’s no reason for us to slack off. We can only assume he’s preparing for something big.” She pauses, watches her words sink in.

“Ladybug…” Bee admits, “I’m kind of…really rusty, battle wise.”

Marinette looks around at them; everyone seems dejected at the prospect of facing Trainers that far out of their league. _Oops._ She’d wanted them to get a sense of the danger they were facing, not kill their morale altogether.

“Any of you have any Badges?” Alya asks. “I don’t.”

_Oh, fuck._ Marinette steps a little away from their circle.

“I don’t, either,” says Queen Bee, glaring around as though daring someone to comment.

“Me neither,” says Chat, sounding a little ashamed. Marinette’s got to admit she’s a little surprised by that one: Chat seems like he’s gotten a lot of fully-evolved, high-level Pokémon, and he seems a natural battler. She wants to ask him why he’s never challenged a Gym, but judging by the guarded expression he’s adopting, he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.

“I’ve got four from Kalos,” Carapace says, counting on his fingers. “Santalune, Cyllage, Shalour, Coumarine.”

“That’s incredible,” Alya says, and Chat nods in agreement.

“What about you, Ladybug?” he asks, and they all turn to face Marinette, who’s been attempting to blend in with the wall ever since the topic came up. Bold move, considering her bright red hoodie, but a girl’s gotta try, right?

“Uh…” Desperate, Marinette looks to Alya for help, but Alya only grins. Traitor.

“Come on, tell us,” Carapace says curiously. “It’s not like we’re gonna judge you.”

Marinette sighs, then mumbles something unintelligible under her breath. Alya is looking at her like she wants to smack her.

“Didn’t hear you,” she sing-songs.

Marinette glares at her. “Eight Badges,” she grits out. “From Hoenn.”

There’s silence. Then –

“Woah, Ladybug!” Carapace crows. “_Eight_ badges? No wonder you’re so good!”

“I knew it,” Queen Bee says, looking at Marinette with pure hero-worship in her eyes. Marinette feels a little uncomfortable, and a little undeserving, of her praise.

“It’s really nothing,” she says consciously.

Carapace is now gushing about how she could go back to Hoenn and become Champion, and Queen Bee is staring at her so intently that Marinette ducks her head. Alya is still smirking, the backstabbing little fool. Marinette is going to _kill_ her after patrol.

“Ladybug,” Chat whispers, almost reverently, “you’re _amazing_.”

He’s looking at her like she’s descended from the sun, and Marinette feels her entire face heat up: she’s sure she’s turned a bright shade of pink. Alya straight up looks like Christmas has come early, gazing at Marinette with sharp eyes as she stutters out a thanks in response, but he’s still staring at her like – like she’s everything he’s ever wanted and more, and after about a minute of him looking at her and her avoiding his gaze, Carapace finally takes pity on her and suggests they start patrol.

Marinette doesn’t need to be told twice: she fucking _flees _the scene, dropping down onto a rooftop in Magenta Plaza and burying her face in her hands, trying to get her breathing under control. Her phone is ringing: it’s Alya, who screeches when she picks up.

“Girl, _what the fuck!”_

“Alya, no.”

“Your neck looked fucking _sunburnt_, girl!” Alya howls.

“I _don’t_ want to talk about this,” Marinette hisses.

“Ladybug, you’re _uh-mazing_,” Alya imitates, in a deep, sensual voice. Marinette hangs up, her cheeks flaming.

Patrol, as is the usual these days, is fairly boring; Marinette releases Sylveon out of pure boredom. She’s finished her round of Magenta and is about to start on Bleu when Chat calls her.

“Ladybug, come here quick, we’ve found something,” he says. “I’m sending you my location.”

She opens it up: he’s at the other end of Bleu, not too far. Marinette decides to go there on foot, and leaps from rooftop to rooftop, and finds that she’s the last to arrive.

“What’s up?” she asks breathlessly, dropping down into the alley where they’re all gathered.

Queen Bee points.

There, at the end of the path, pacing nervously, is a Turtwig. It notices her, runs half the distance to them, and then runs away again.

“Is that one of the stolen Pokémon?” Carapace asks.

“Nope,” Alya says, brows furrowed. “No record of a missing [Turtwig](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Turtwig_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)). And it doesn’t look like a stray, either.”

“Well, then what?” Bee asks.

“It doesn’t look abandoned,” Chat says. “I think it wants us to follow it.”

As though it can understand them, Turtwig makes a tiny scratchy sound, and then bolts.

“Follow it,” Marinette says.

Turtwig leads them down an alleyway, and then headbutts one of the manholes in the ground. It stomps on it repeatedly, then looks up at her.

Marinette lifts the lid to reveal a dark hole that she knows leads to the drainages of the city. There’s a ladder and all that, but the air coming out fucking _reeks:_ Chat gags and Bee looks like she regrets coming at all.

Turtwig sniffles.

“I guess it wants us to go down,” Marinette says.

“I’ll go first,” Alya volunteers, releasing her [Staryu](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Staryu_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)). The Pokémon’s red core glows with a faint light, on and off, like a heartbeat. It’s not much, but it’s something.

Alya clambers down the ladder, followed by Queen Bee, Marinette (and Turtwig, who rides her shoulder), Carapace, and Chat Noir.

It’s stinky like a [Stunky](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Stunky_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), but at least it’s not wet, which Marinette is thankful for. Staryu’s blinking red light casts the place in an eerie red light.

“There might be [Grimer](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Grimer_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) around, so watch out,” Alya says.

Turtwig leaps off her shoulder and starts moving forward. Carapace opens up what must be a compass application on his phone. “It’s going South,” he whispers.

“What’s south?” Bee asks. “Santalune?”

“Ladybug,” Chat interrupts in a whisper, “do you think this is how Hawkmoth and the other two navigate around the city?”

“It’s possible,” she whispers back. Everyone shares alarmed looks.

“Be on your guard,” Marinette says, hand on her pokéballs, “and let’s hope we don’t run into an enemy.”

They follow the Turtwig for a good fifteen minutes, Staryu leading: the path is heading uphill, and they’re all beginning to get a little out of breath.

“Geez, I’m unfit,” Carapace wheezes.

“If this is a trap, I swear to Arceus-” Bee grunts.

“We’re_ definitely _outside the city limits,” Alya says nervously.

“Look,” Chat says, pointing, “I think we’re at the end, though.”

Sure enough, Turtwig is circling the ground beneath a skylight of sorts, stomping around, agitated, and making the occasional clicking noise. Marinette gazes upward: she can see the stars.

“Look, Ladybug,” Queen Bee says, kneeling. The ground’s covered in a layer of fresh soil right beneath the hole. “What does it mean?”

Marinette looks at Turtwig. “It must’ve Dug it,” she tells the rest. “It must’ve needed us to get here by whatever means necessary.”

“How did Turtwig get down, then?” Alya asks.

They all look at the tiny Pokémon incredulously, and, for the first time, Marinette notices the slight limp in its step, the beginnings of a bruise on its outer shell.

“You poor baby,” she sighs, gathering it in her arms, and Chat produces a Potion from his pocket. He sprays it on the bruise, and Turtwig shrieks, looking at her reproachfully.

“You’ll thank us later,” Marinette says. Turtwig rumbles in response, the little leaves on top of its head trembling.

“We’ll have to Fly out,” Chat murmurs. “There’s no way for us to climb up.”

She nods; Chat has released his Honchkrow, Carapace is soon atop his [Mantine](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Mantine_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)), and Bee’s clambering onto the back of a menacing-looking [Scyther](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Scyther_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)). Marinette releases Altaria with her free hand, and she and Alya climb on.

Chat takes off first; Honchkrow blasts through the hole, and chunks of earth rains down on them, forcing them to shield themselves.

Chat’s voice comes from above, “Didn’t think that through!”

“No shit!” Bee yells back.

They all fly through the opening easily now, and land in what looks like a man-made forest. There are trees all around, and Marinette hears the gurgling of a stream. She’s sure that in the daylight, this place would look far less menacing.

“Where are we?” she wonders aloud. The area is beautiful, but there’s no sign of even a single Pokémon other than their own, which strikes her as odd.

Alya stoops down to pat Staryu. “I think…I think we’re inside Professor Fu’s lab.”

“What?” Chat looks thunderstruck. “But I’ve been in there before, it’s nothing like this.”

“I thought it was just one building on South Boulevard,” Marinette admits. “I’ve never even been inside.”

Alya straightens, frowning. “The lab isn’t just what we see on the outside. It’s got a whole outer campus where Fu conducts his research: grounds that extend beyond Lumiose. I – I read an article on it, once.” She shoots Marinette a significant look which meant that Alya’d written the article herself.

“So why are we here?” Carapace wonders: at his words, Turtwig, apparently all healed up from the Potion, jumps from her arms and heads off into a thicket. Wordlessly, they all return their Flyers, and Chat sends out his Umbreon as backup.

Turtwig’s moving slowly, pausing every once in a while to make sure they’re still following. The little turtle takes several weird turns, and Marinette is almost convinced they’re going in a circle, until –

“Oh,” says Alya in a faint voice. “I definitely didn’t read about _that_ in the article.”

There’s another building in front of them, surrounded by trees, almost invisible in the darkness. Turtwig runs towards it without hesitation.

“A secret lab?” Bee whispers. “What the heck is going on?”

Marinette can’t even answer her.

As they approach the building, though, something feels ominous, and Umbreon growls. Everyone else must feel it too: Carapace sends out his [Rockruff](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Rockruff_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\)) and Bee releases a Vespiquen. Marinette keeps a tight grip on her pokéball.

Alya gasps when they’re close enough: the building is _wrecked._ The windows are shattered, the door hangs on its hinge. Bits of glass are spread around like scattered diamonds.

“Stay calm,” Marinette whispers, even though her heart is beating so hard she can barely think in her fear. Chat lets out a shaky breath. She looks at him, and some of the fear must be written on her face, because he squeezes her shoulder in comfort.

Turtwig jumps over the glass and enters the building, leading them down a narrow hallway. It is still, and so quiet that Marinette can hear herself breathing.

The path opens up into a circular room. It’s got a large glass display at the very middle, but that’s been broken into, too: large shards of glass lie on the floor, reflecting Staryu’s blinking red light.

Chat whispers, “Who is _that?”_

He is pointing to a broken figure on the ground, barely stirring. Turtwig runs to the person, whining, nudging the person’s feet with its own tiny face.

Slowly, Marinette approaches the fallen figure; Alya flanks her right, and Chat, her left. Carapace and Bee find the main switchboard and turn on the lights, throwing the damage of the lab into even greater relief.

Marinette has to shield her eyes from the blinding brightness, but the man still hasn’t moved. He’s a tiny, wizened old man, wearing a red floral shirt that strikes her as very Alolan in style.

“Professor Fu!” Alya gasps, her hands clapping over her mouth.

The man stirs. Turtwig headbutts him affectionately in the thigh, and he groans.

“Ah, Wayzz,” Professor Fu says weakly, petting the Turtwig’s head and tweaking its leaves, “you did a good job.” Turtwig clicks happily, bounding around him.

Finally, he looks up at all of them, dazed. Marinette supposed they must look a real sight: five masked people garbed in all colors, staring down at him like _he’s_ the crazy one.

“Heroes of Paris,” Fu says, with some recognition, looking at each of them in turn. He looks dazedly back at the glass display, which is very obviously empty, and is surrounded by a variety of cables linked to a set of wrecked computer systems. He turns back to them, and there is a bitter smile on his face.

“As you can see,” he says, “we have a _huge_ problem here.”

**Author's Note:**

> more to come!!! leave a comment if you feel like, they help keep me going :)
> 
> thanks for reading!


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